


Forged in Fame

by PointlesslyPoetic



Series: Nature by Design [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU - Professor and Model, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, More characters to be added, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Thranduil’s A+ Parenting, a lot of baggage, really just so much baggage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PointlesslyPoetic/pseuds/PointlesslyPoetic
Summary: Gimli Durinson is a professor of Architectural Engineering at Columbia University going on 5 years. Legolas Lasgalen is a model, reluctant activist, and influencer working alongside his father. They have just about nothing in common, save for their friend Aragorn Elessar. When he comes to them asking for help with a bold push to save the environment of New York City, and make a push against DuMonte Enterprises, who seek to purchase and build over a quarter of Central Park, and worse, they must learn to work together and see past the others issues, which shouldn’t be too hard, considering the height difference.A very contrived take on the Professor!Gimli and Influencer!Legolas AU, in which they’re still somewhat reluctantly trying to save the planet because Aragorn asked them to.One of those fics, featuring the entire 6 movie cast in one way or another.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli & Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Kíli, Gimli (Son of Glóin) & Legolas Greenleaf, Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Legolas Greenleaf & Tauriel
Series: Nature by Design [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721110
Comments: 108
Kudos: 400





	1. An Ugly Sort of Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I hope you enjoy this read, which was wholeheartedly inspired by Deheerkonijn's art over on Tumblr. If you like this, and even if you don't, definitely go check out their art. Does a fandom ever have enough AU's? Probably not.

** _Text from Aragorn_ **

Legolas glanced at the notification, and smiled vaguely into his paper coffee cup. He closed his Instagram, discarding the half-finished morning vlog. He’d do a live chat later to make up for it. He tapped the banner and scanned the message.

** _Are you free to get lunch? Want to talk about a project._ **

Legolas flipped over to his calendar, saw he had a two hour block around 1, and told Aragorn as such. Aragorn said he’d make the reservation, giving Legolas time to ponder what could be up. Aragorn was a prominent and successful environmental engineer, working for the city government currently, serving the people of the planet always, as he so eloquently put it. Legolas always felt it appropriate to roll his eyes at his friend’s intense dramatics, but he couldn’t argue with results. Aragorn was the poster boy of the modern pushback to climate change, dethroning even Leonardo DiCaprio, which was just fine by pretty much everyone. He was smart, humble, and a down-to-earth hippie at his core.

Which is what had Legolas rather stumped. He was a jack of all trades, and none of them classically intellectual. Some days he was a model, other days he was an influencer of the new age, broadcasting his thoughts, musings, opinions, meal plans, work out routines, and favorite products across the internet to any who elected to listen. Other times he was an archer, his childhood love of the sport having pushed him into competition as an adult. Alongside Aragorn, he was a triathlete and marathoner. He was a mild celebrity, brought to light thanks to his prominent and very rich father, and his guidance in the fine arts of elbow-rubbing and arse-kissing. Bottom line here being, the last thing he was was an environmental activist. He never got involved in politics, never stepped into the thick messy bog of governments and people and opinions that matter in the end. 

And he was more than content with that. 

Certainly, there had been many a time when Aragorn had attempted to convince him to use his platform to spread messages and influence people toward something other than buying the latest charcoal hair mask or Starbucks frappuccino nightmare. Many a lunch, dinner, gala, club night had Aragorn spent trying to get Legolas to join him in his crusades. And sometimes Legolas considered it. But at the end of the day, it all felt very artificial to him. He didn’t know much about the inner workings of the natural world, or how so many green islands and walkways could improve the city’s air quality, or how easy it would be to raise funds to save whatever animal was going extinct this month. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He did. He just didn’t care enough personally.

Not that he would tell Aragorn that. 

Legolas tossed his head and pocketed his phone, popping in his bluetooth earbuds and striding from the West 33rd Street Starbucks with his sunglasses and swagger firmly in place. The air was just turning crisp, New York City finally allowing itself to cool down after a roiling and stiflingly humid August. A more humid August than normal, Aragorn had informed him. As he pondered his friend and the world as a whole, he let his feet carry him along the now familiar path to his father’s offices and studios. He had paperwork to drop off, ensembles to approve, photo shoots to schedule, and whatever else Galion, his father’s assistant, had in store for him. Legolas sighed a bit, and let the hot synthetic drum beat of  _ Hips Don’t Lie _ distract him.

He loped through the streets, minding his own business as all New Yorkers did. He was just pulling out his phone to resume his morning vlog contemplation when it happened. He mistimed a step in the never ending dance of foot traffic, distracted for a second too long, and crashed coffee-first into a sternum-high wall of muscle power walking across the sidewalk to reach the large building he was drifting past. 

Legolas gasped as his latte broke open and sloshed all over the front of his forest-green thermal vest, and down the shoulder and arm of the man he’d collided with. Said man leapt back with a startled yell, and looked up at him.

“And just what the hell is your problem?” The man thundered at him. Legolas’ eyes snapped up to meet his.

“ _ My _ problem?” Legolas sneered and drew himself up. He pocketed his now somewhat-damp phone. “Who the hell do you think you are, sprinting across the sidewalk like that? People are walking here!”

The man, a short and bearded red-head with a myriad of braids, snarled at him. “Aye, laddie, they are. It would do all of us an arse-load of good if you stayed off your phone while you walked!” He had a Scottish accent, Legolas noticed belatedly. It wasn’t often he met others from “across the pond”.

Legolas hissed. “Whatever, shortstop. I have better places to be than here arguing with the likes of you.”

The shorter man glowered fiercely as Legolas made to brush by. “Try not to get knocked over by a stray breeze, ye feckin beanstalk.”

Legolas gnashed his teeth. “Hope the latte crusts in your shirt.” He called acerbically over his shoulder. He pounded the play button on his phone before he could hear the man’s response. He snapped a sullen pic of his soiled outfit a few blocks later, and captioned it,

_ Just had the worst encounter of my month with the world’s angriest mutant goblin. Hate NYC.  _

_ #nofilter #ididnotwakeuplikethis #fuckpeople #wearingmybreakfast _

By the time he made it into his father’s office, his mood had soured so potently and visibly that not even Galion would approach him with his schedule, and his own father decided not to make his typical comment on his son’s tardiness or ruined shirt. Legolas had just finished changing when another text from Aragorn came in.

** _Cool if I bring a friend? I’m gonna need his help with this too so it makes sense…_ **

Legolas groaned and rolled his eyes, tapping out his response (a rather bratty  _ “whatevs” _ ) before leaving his phone in his desk and heading to his 11:30 appointment with his dad.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“Right so, whenever motion occurs, speed is? Yes, Mister Kens?”

“Positive?”

“Right! So now, everyone jot down what they think this means regarding velocity. You’ve got two minutes, plenty o’ time.”

Gimli watched his first semester engineering physics students bow their heads diligently over their papers, scribbling away. It was only a month into the fall term, they were still eager and fresh and ready to learn.

He had a feeling most of them would be rather over it by the time he gave the midterm, sadly. 

While they wrote, he bent his head to sniff his long-dry shirt sleeve. Indeed, it smelled faintly of slightly soured, over sugared milk and espresso. And of course, today he wore his thicker knit sweater. It was holding the scent unfortunately well. Gimli scowled, thinking back to the prickly bog-weed who’d crashed into him. The man had been beautiful of face, what of it wasn’t hidden behind his huge sunglasses. There was no denying his fair features. But as soon as he opened his mouth, it was clear the beauty only reached skin deep. His south english lilt was filled with disdain and vitriol, and Gimli scowled harder to even hear it in his mind. 

He was shaken from his grumbling when his phone buzzed quietly. He glanced at his class, saw them writing still, and peeked at his phone. He blinked. Aragorn? Wasn’t he still at that fancy conference in France? He quickly opened the message.

** _Gimli!! Lunch today? _ **

He frowned.

_ When, laddie? I have classes at, like, now, and 4.  _

He had scarcely finished sending it when the reply came through.

** _Perfect! 1 okay then? At the Green Dragon?_ **

Gimli sighed. 

_ See u then, apparently. _

Ping! Damn but the man texted fast.

** _Excellent! Oh, bringing a friend of mine too. Cool guy. It’ll be great._ **

Gimli rolled his eyes heartily and put his phone in his bag. He wouldn’t even dignify that with a response. Leave it to Aragorn to spring his own little plan on Gimli when it was too late to back out. He was blunt, but he wasn’t impolite. His Da had taught him better than that. He waited a breath, then slammed his hands together in a booming clap. He chuckled to himself as his students jolted in their seats, a few cursing.

“Now, then, who wants to answer?”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Legolas swept out of the office building on Madison, feeling well recovered from his horrible morning. It was 12:45, and he had just enough time to get to the Green Dragon, albeit a bit fashionably late. He yanked his phone out of his satchel and opened his instagram. He swiped over to the live video tab, and smiled when he saw 300 people tune in instantly.

“Good afternoon, beautiful people!” He flipped his hair over his shoulder in his usual manner. “How is everyone doing on this gorgeous, almost-fall day? I am currently on my way to lunch with my very good friend, Aragorn Estel, and his friend, a mystery lunch date. Hope they’re cute.”

He paused to check his surroundings, and the viewer count, which was now over 1200. He glanced about his person, the Scottish berating he’d received that morning swimming in his ear. He scowled. 

“Anyway, this is just a reminder and little love note to all of you out there; don’t let ugly people get you down,” he tossed his head again, sidestepping a hot dog cart. “And, like, I don’t mean physically unfortunate people. I just mean, like, those people who are just a little nasty deep inside. All those negative, rude, mean, gremlins out there. Don’t give them the power to ruin your day! Stay beautiful, inside and out.” 

He winked at the camera, and rounded the block to see Aragorn waiting across the street at the restaurant. 

“Okay, my darlings, I am off to wine and dine. All of you have gorgeous days, and keep an eye out for the hair mask review I promised you all this week. Loves!”

He ended the video as he came within earshot of Aragorn, who smiled slightly and shook his shaggy head. 

Legolas huffed. “What? It’s not like you haven’t done the same.”

Aragorn smiled broadly. “True, but never have I been so in love with the sound of my own voice and the sight of my own visage to do so at least twice a day.”

Legolas smiled at his teasing, and pulled Aragorn in for a hug. Aragorn liked hugs. Legolas knew this, and so he tried more for Aragorn’s sake. 

“So, who’s the mystery friend?” Legolas brushed his hand down his emerald button-up, looking around. “Are they from your job?”

Aragorn snorted. “No, they’re not from the firm. He’s a professor over at Columbia, an architect of sorts. His family has built a lot of the new skyline, and more for the Hudson rebuilding efforts. Dr. Gimli Durinson, maybe you know the name?”

Legolas was about to inform Aragorn that he had never heard anything like that name whatsoever, when a thick Scottish brogue interrupted him. “My ears are burning, laddie. What lies are you spreading about my good name now?”

Aragorn grinned, and stepped to the side, revealing a short, bearded redhead standing just behind him. An unfortunately familiar short redhead. The goblin from that very morning. Aragorn opened his mouth to introduce them, but both Legolas and Gimli beat him to it. 

“Ach, not you!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a very awkward, plot-establishing luncheon

Gimli had never sat through a more tense silence in his life. The tall blond lad,  _ Legolas _ apparently, was glaring pure ice-melt at Gimli, sending frost crackling through his veins. Even if he had wanted to fidget, he didn’t think his limbs would listen to him at the moment. 

Gimli, for his part, was radiating such a severe aura of distaste and annoyance that he was surprised his beard wasn’t on fire. What could Aragorn possibly want from this, this…  _ peacock! _ And as he looked at the man, he was grimly amused by his own thought, because that was exactly what he was. From the tossing of his thin hair, to the set of his rakish shoulders and haughty jawline, he was nothing more than a posturing bird. 

Aragorn, for his part, just looked comically tired and rather exasperated. “Are you two serious?” 

Legolas sniffed. “Deadly.”

“Aye, laddie.”

The man tossed his hands in the air. “You haven’t even heard me out, yet. We’ve barely sat down!”

Gimli and Legolas shifted, not looking at Aragorn, nor each other. His eyes rolled. 

“You two are, truly, my dearest friends. And Legolas, you are my oldest! We’ve known each other since elementary school. Would you both really do me such a dishonor as to be so full of yourselves that you won’t listen to a friend who needs you  _ desperately _ ? Because you  _ spilled coffee on each other?  _ What are you, teenagers?”

Gimli felt his bearded cheeks heat up. He risked a glance at Legolas to see his face had grown almost icier, but that his odd pointy ears had turned an interesting shade of red. 

‘Not one who likes to be shown his own mistakes, then.’ Gimli thought, and smartly kept to himself. This guy was shaping up to be quite the ass, in his own opinion.

Outwardly, he sighed and slumped. “Ach, I’m sorry Aragorn. It was just one of those days, y’know?” He glanced at his friend, and smiled slightly. The gesture was returned. “Didn’t mean to cause such a shitshow so early in the day.”

Legolas cleared his throat delicately. “Yes, what, erm,  _ Gimli _ said,” He made a confused face around his name, and Gimli tried not to snap at him. “I don’t know what you could possibly need me here for, but I’ll offer any support I can.”

Silently, Gimli agreed. Looking at Legolas, he was almost certain he did not run in the same circles he and Aragorn did. Or even that Aragorn alone did. He knew an academic, a well-learned mind, when he saw one, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. 

Aragorn regarded them both idly now, with one of his unfathomable thousand yard stares that charmed audience after audience into hearing him out. Both Gimli and Legolas shifted to face him, and Gimli leaned his elbows on the table intently. He pretended not to notice the annoyed glance the blond threw his way. 

Aragorn spoke softly but quickly. “I really cannot have this getting around, as it is, presently, somewhat confidential. But, I trust you both. Legolas, I see this on one of your vlogs and so help me god I will run you over with your own car.”

Legolas nodded rapidly, looking not unlike a horse tossing its head. Aragorn nodded and pressed on, leaning in to the table.

“There’s a company that’s based here in the city, but operates around the world. DuMonte Enterprises, they’re called mainly. They own One Ring, LLC, and Black Reach Group, both which operate only domestically. They’re the main cogs in a very, very big machine. They have hands and money in logging, manufacturing, energy, construction, and so much more. They’re in bed with governments around the world. They’ve built some very important buildings and structures, some of which don’t technically exist, if you follow.”

Gimli nodded even as Legolas began to look lost and a bit glazed over. “Aye, Aragorn, I follow you. I’ve heard of those companies, my family has brushed up with them on occasion. They’re not the nicest of companies, but who is these days? What does this have to do with anything?”

Legolas sounded utterly flummoxed. “Yes, and what specifically does this have to do with us?”

Aragorn nodded. “I’m getting there. They’ve just closed on a signing with the mayor of the city, and with three other major businesses in the area, Kaiyuru Inc., the O.R.C., and Easterlings Environmental. They’re going to be clear-cutting and logging the lower east fourth of Central Park, building on the Hudson, and possibly closing and demolishing half of the Natural History Museum, in the name of furthering business and creating jobs.”

Aragorn was breathing angrily through his nose by the time he finished speaking. He looked more visibly upset than Gimli could ever remember seeing, and he registered Legolas looking at his friend with deep concern. 

Gimli himself was outraged. “How is this legal? How can they do this? Those are pieces of history, protected ecosystems, parts of the history here! They’re important to people!”

Aragorn shook his head. “In the eyes of the machine that has become the government, they’re useless pieces of land, and buildings that do nothing but collect dust.”

“But the park is beautiful!” Legolas blurted out. Gimli and Aragorn turned to him, and he blushed a bit at his outburst. “What I mean to say is, er, that the park is home to many, um, different plants, and animals live there that can’t do very well in the more urban areas, and, well, it’s very special to many people. They can’t just rip part of it up because it isn’t doing enough for them,” he trailed off for a second, before stating, quietly. “And it is beautiful. Sometimes beyond words. It would be a tragedy to see it destroyed.”

Gimli regarded the other man for long moment.  _ ‘Aha,’ _ he thought.  _ ‘There’s something under all that fluff and nonsense, as Uncle Bilbo would say. Something to be mined out yet. _ ’

Out loud, he voiced his agreement. “Aye, I agree with the willow tree,” he ignored the scathing glare and amused snort the statement produced. “This cannae stand, Aragorn. I don’t know how exactly, but I’ll help.”

Legolas nodded, stiff yet again. “Yes, how exactly can we help? I’m going to go ahead and assume that’s why you asked us here. You’re not one for empty gossip, sadly.” He tossed his hair in a gesture Gimli was quickly growing tired of. 

Aragorn nodded, rubbing a hand over the scruff he called a beard. “I need you two to help in ways that my coworkers and colleagues can’t. Hear me out fully before you both start yelling and rolling your eyes,” he looked at Gimli and Legolas respectively, and waited for their sheepish nods. “Right. Legolas, your job is easier for me to explain. I need you to raise awareness and drum up some support among regular, everyday people, especially New Yorkers.”

Gimli watched Legolas’ neck stiffen and his jaw clench. He frowned. That wasn’t exactly asking much, and if they were as close as Aragorn purported they were, it was literally the least he could do. He waited with interest as Legolas seemed to choose his words carefully.

“Aragorn,” he began. “You know it’s hard for me to take stances like this. You know the positions I’m in, what might be said, what could happen.”

Aragorn nodded as if this was an actual issue. Gimli could feel his anger bubbling, and fought to keep it down. “I know, Leg. But, please, I truly need you to do this for me. For more than me. And for more than you. For so much more than any of us. Please, think on it. I’ll need an answer by the end of the week to begin marketing.”

Legolas nodded, his eyes drifting to his phone. He toyed idly with the fidgeting gadget on the back, his long fingers picking sullenly at the rhinestones. He seemed incredibly torn about a matter than really didn’t require such long thought, Gimli seethed. But he bit the inside of his cheek and kept silent. Aragorn turned to him and he straightened. 

“Gimli, I’m going to need you to brainstorm with me at some point this week. But, what we’re going for here is a huge push in environmental infrastructure construction.”

Legolas looked up at them, his mouth open and his brows crooked. He looked as lost as a child in a shopping mall on black friday. Gimli snorted.

“We speakin’ French to you, laddie?” he snipped. 

Legolas bristled. “_Non, monsieur, je peux parler francais_. What I can’t speak is this intellectual drivel. Aragorn, kindly idiot-proof your self-aggrandizing battle plans if you want me to champion them. I can’t sell something to the public if I don’t actually know what I’m offering them.”

Aragorn snorted. “Because you know everything that’s in those Japanese face masks and pimple removers.”

Legolas rolled his eyes something fierce. Gimli watched them rotate around his skull with idle annoyance. “Oh,  _ whatever _ . Just speak plainly would you?”

Gimli cleared his throat. “If I’m understanding you, Aragorn, you want me to help you build more environmental, uh, things?”

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, green things. Like, like,” he began gesturing more expressively than he usually did. Gimli bit down an amused smile, and watched Legolas’ mouth twitch up in a vague smile. He didn’t look quite so much like a stretched Tim Burton character when he smiled, Gimli thought, then refocused on Aragorn. “I want to build some of those green islands, with trees and nature, and spread them throughout the busier parts of the city. We can get them protected. I’ll figure it out. And more solar panels, those clear ones. And maybe hydroelectric ports in the bay!”

Gimli nodded. He reached into his satchel and retrieved his drafting notebook, and began scribbling in it with the pencil he always kept tucked behind his ear. “These are good ideas, laddie, but you know as well as I do that the city is nae likely to let us build these for shits and giggles. If our only reason is to oppose those wankers, we’re gonna get shot down.”

Aragorn’s eyes were shining. “Right, yes. But they wouldn’t shut down a Columbia University funded research project in environmental architecture, would they?”

Gimli felt his jaw drop a bit. Aragorn pressed on, and turned to Legolas. “Not a well documented, highly visible project that people around the world are watching and cheering on. While attention is brought to the heinous crimes being committed against the natural life of the city.”

Gimli nodded. “With enough support, and enough backing and public outcry, the city would have no choice but to call off the merger.”

Legolas nodded, and it actually looked like gears were turning in his fine blond head. “Not only that. With enough negative attention being poured on those, erm, wankers, as you said, they’d never be able to make another move outside the public eye again. It happens all the time in the industry. To celebrities.”

Aragorn sat back, triumphant and not a little bit smug. “Well, my friends?”

Gimli looked at Aragorn, then at Legolas. The blond man was staring back at him with unfathomably deep eyes. Gimli forced himself to hold his stare. Legolas huffed a bit, and yes, tossed his hair over his shoulder. 

“So, who exactly are you, uh, Gimli?” 

Gimli did his best to rein in his annoyance. “I’m a professor at Columbia University. I have my doctorate in Architectural Engineering. When I’m not teaching there, I’m helping out with my family’s businesses. My cousins are jewelers and designers, my father and uncles are construction works. Building shite just runs in the family, I guess.”

Legolas looked bored in a rather practiced way. If Gimli had time to guess, he would think he actually looked...angry? Maybe. Jealous? Not likely. He shrugged the thought away. “And you are?”

Legolas flushed a bit, and looked away for fleeting second. When he turned back his face seemed to have drawn a shutter. “I work for my father, at Oscar de la Renta. I model, design occasionally, nothing that gets sold, mind you. I’m really, mainly, an influencer. On, like, Instagram mostly. I get backed by a lot of brands to make people want to buy their stuff. I’m quite good at it, in my own opinion.”

Aragorn spoke up, though his eyes never left the lunch menu. (Gimli spared a glance around. The restaurant was busy, but it was odd no one had taken their order yet.) “Legolas has 180 million followers on Instagram, and 105 million twitter followers. He’s got more power than the president does, probably.”

Legolas snorted. “Now that’s a bit excessive,” he muttered, then turned back to Gimli. “But, yes, I work in fashion, really, is the best way to put it.”

Gimli grimaced. It didn’t seem to him like this man before him really worked much at all. But he decided to keep it civil. “Well, looks like you’ll be able to gather us more than enough support, at any rate.”

Legolas’ jaw clenched visibly, and his eyes dropped to his phone. “Quite.”

Aragorn looked between them, and sighed. “You two really don’t wanna stay to eat, do you.”

Before Gimli could open his mouth, Legolas was out of his seat like a rocket and shrugging on his peacoat. “You know I love to eat with you, Aragorn, but my father just texted. I’m afraid my shoot was moved up. I’ve got to go. You two stay, eat, enjoy.” His hand floated through an elegant gesture for them to stay where they were. He swooped down, dropped a brushing kiss on Aragorn’s cheek, spared Gimli one last disdainful glance, and was gone like a summer storm. 

Gimli turned to Aragorn, feeling utterly lost. The taller man sighed. “Come, let’s order, and then I’ll explain the high-maintenance enigma that is my dear friend Legolas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am entirely overwhelmed by the kudos and hits and the bookmarks. I've never written anything like this, and I am so excited that other people are excited too! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.


	3. Of Sisters and Misters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be honest, I struggled with this chapter for a hot second. But the next two are written, so I'll be able to update more regularly going forward. Every 3 days is what I'm thinking for now. 
> 
> Some notes: I guesstimated Bard's kids ages from Desolation, and then kinda tweaked until they fit my narrative. Also, Tauriel is Legolas' sister in this, and I have thoroughly loved writing her thus far. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

Legolas strode from the restaurant with his ears burning, feeling more self conscious than he had in years. He really had not missed the feeling. His slightly shaking fingers were already punching Tauriel’s contact before he could really register what he was doing. 

After a beat and two rings, her voice cut through the static. “Hello?”

He swallowed. “Hey, what are you doing right now.”

“Uh, nothing really. Just drafting a paper for some stupid gen-ed class.” Tauriel was a junior at Columbia studying graphic design and fashion history. Legolas was proud of her, not that he’d ever admit that where she could hear.

“Lunch at Gregorio’s in 15?” 

“Race you there.” The line clicked off. 

Something in his voice must have given him away, because Tauriel usually never put anyone over her work. He pushed that out of his head for the next twenty minutes, and instead let the pounding synth of Lizzo’s latest hit smash any coherent thought to bits. By the time he reached his and Tauriel’s favorite (Father-Approved) eatery, he was feeling more like himself again.

He had scarcely sat down at one of their patio tables when a blur of red hair was careening around the corner toward him. Legolas had just gotten onto his feet when his sister crashed into him in an uncharacteristic hug. He caught her around the shoulders, returning the squeeze, before she pulled back abruptly. They held each other at arm’s length, gripping the other’s shoulders as they regarded each other warily.

His sister was giving him a stern look. “Legolas?” 

“Tauriel?” he mimicked her tone. 

She smiled a bit, as he had hoped she would, and softened. “Are you okay? You sounded off. What happened at the shoot today? Was father up your arse again? Is it-”

Legolas laughed and shook her shoulders a bit. “Tauriel, Tauriel, please! Relax! I’m alright. I’ll, um, explain over lunch. Are you okay?” he stared at her a bit. “You don’t like hugs.”

Tauriel huffed. “I can make exceptions for idiot brothers who have bad days. Sometimes.”

Legolas smiled and nodded his thanks. Theirs was not a very physically affectionate bond, but it was strong and present in its own way. They released each other and sat, not bothering with menus. They made small talk until the waiter came by to take their orders, discussing her schooling and his career. At last, Tauriel cut through their idle chit-chat.

“Legolas,” she said, fixing him with one of those deep, probing looks their father was known for. “What’s the matter. You don’t do spontaneous, and you’re quiet. Weird. Tell me.”

He sighed. “I just came from a not-lunch with Aragorn, and a friend of his. He’s asking me to help him with an environmental...green...thing. I don’t even know all of it. And his friend sucks and-”

Tauriel held her hands up. “Whoa, Leg, slow your roll. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Legolas ran his hands through his hair, wrecking the braids he’d threaded this morning. He couldn’t bring himself to care. “Aragorn wants me to use my, like, platforms, or whatever. To spread word about Centra-uhh-” Legolas’ jaw snapped shut as he trailed off. “Uh, well, actually I can’t tell you what I’m supposed to be helping with. Yet. But I will soon. If I help,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “Tauriel, I’m bad at talking.”

His sister squeezed his hand as it dropped to the table top. “Just, take it little by little. It’s okay, Legolas. So, you can’t tell me. But Aragorn wants you to spread the world about a climate-y issue. Take a stand and have an opinion?”

Legolas nodded.

“Which is everything Father doesn’t want you to do so long as you work with him?”

Legolas nodded again. 

“Ah. And Aragorn doesn’t know that?”

Legolas threw his hands up. “Yes! He does know! He wants me to do it anyway. And, weirdly, I want to do it too! I’ve never wanted to help anyone do anything before, but here I am.”

Tauriel wrinkled her nose. “Not to crush your passion, but, why? You’ve never cared before, no offense.”

He clenched his hand around the fork on the table. “Part of it is his snide little friend. And part of it is me.” Tauriel raised a finely-threaded eyebrow, waiting for Legolas to elaborate. He struggled with his words for a moment, before sighing and slumping down in his seat. He let his head drop onto folded arms, and decided that mumbling was the next best course of dramatic action. “I’ve never felt more stupid, Tauriel.”

He heard her sigh. “Legolas-”

“And the way that man, that  _ Gimli _ , looked at me, I know he thought it too!” His head shot up. “Between the two of them, Aragorn the Engineer and and Gimli the Architect, I’m Legolas the Vapid, Empty-Headed Dumbass with nothing to offer other than Instagram and Twitter followers. I’m just some pretty face to them. And probably not even that! Gimli hates me!”

Tauriel looked utterly taken aback at this outburst. Her brother was easily the most emotional soul in their family, but even this was a bit much for him. She awkwardly patted his hand. “Legolas you aren’t stupid.”

He leveled her with an unimpressed and disbelieving stare. “Tauriel, I’m not like you. Or Father. I’m bad with words, and I overstate the obvious. I cannot read a room. Even I’ll admit I’m a bit, y’know, self-absorbed. I was practically handed this job because I’m kind of pretty and my dad runs the company.”

Tauriel glared. “Legolas, you know that isn’t true. Father has never treated you differently, and he has taught you how to run a business since you were his intern.”

Legolas sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not smart. Not like those two.”

Tauriel shrugged and threw her arms wide. “So? No one is smart like other people, Legolas. Everyone has their own kind of smart to bring to the table. So what if you can draft designs for buildings? Or do, well, whatever it is Aragorn does? Neither of them can design clothing, or command a room like you.”

Legolas shrugged apathetically. Tauriel smiled secretively and poked his arm. “They can’t sing in a male soprano like you. They can stitch up stuffed animals and dress-up gowns in five minutes like you. And I know they can’t dance like you.”

Legolas smiled a bit. He nodded in assent. Tauriel pushed on. “Maybe you aren’t academic. So what? You have the sharpest mind for business that Father has ever seen, his won words. You could run your own business if you wanted, sell your designs and all the products you’ve thought of. You know how to make people believe they need something, and make them buy it. No school in the world can teach that.”

Legolas snorted. “I rather think they can,” but then he softened and squeezed his sister’s hand. “But thank you, Tauriel. I’ll try to remember that around them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t just remember that. Show them. Don’t let them make you feel stupid.”

He nodded, and the conversation trailed off as their food was brought over to them. Between bites of strawberry vinaigrette salad, he asked, “How are the kids?”

Tauriel rolled her eyes fondly. Two years ago, their father, Thranduil, had remarried a man named Bard. Bard was a city firefighter and freelance photographer. They’d met on one of the company’s shoots, where Bard had been hired as a last minute solution when their photographer had quit. Bard had three kids from his previous marriage, 16 year old Sigrid, 13 year old Bain, and 9 year old Tilda. Legolas and Tauriel, 26 and 22 respectively, had been fairly shocked at the turn of events, but as they didn’t live with Thranduil most of the time, the change was a bit easier for them. Well, to be honest, the change was easier for them for a lot of reasons.

Legolas had been six, and Tauriel two, when they lost their mother. They had both been so young, that while it was sad at the time, Legolas felt it was hard to miss a presence he hadn’t really ever known. He had been content with their tiny family his whole life. His step-siblings, however, had lost their mother about four years ago to a very long battle with cancer. Tilda had a hard time recalling her, but Bain and Sigrid had grown up with her, Sigrid especially. He knew they still missed her fiercely, and that some days were better than others still adjusting to their new additions. 

Not to mention, Bain had recently decided that having two dads was not cool. Legolas privately suspected this had more to do with his peers, and the fact that his second father was possibly one of the coldest businessmen on the planet, but he kept his mouth shut. Bain had been cold shouldering Legolas since they’d met, and Legolas returned the favor. That was between Thranduil, Bain, and Bard, and he really didn’t want to wade into that mess. 

Tauriel was still speaking, he realized with a hint of guilt, and tuned back in to his sister. 

“-and then he slammed the door and locked it very pointedly. So, Bain’s his usual sunny self, I suppose. Sigrid and Tilda both have science projects coming up, so they want you to take them to the museum.”

Legolas grimaced. He had always found the Museum of Natural History to be dusty. But for his step-sisters, he would go. “Okay, I’ll text Sigrid this evening about it. Do they know what they want to do?”

Tauriel nodded around her zoodles. “Tilda wants to do dinosaurs. Probably the long necked ones, whatever they’re called. And I think Sigrid wants to do deep space. She’s fairly excited.”

“At least it isn’t rocks. I hate the rocks.” Legolas sighed. “While we’re near the topic, what do Father and Bard think they’re going to do about Bain.”

Tauriel looked down, and Legolas saw a flash of grief pass her face. “I don’t know, Legolas. It’s getting to Father, whether he wants to admit it or not. He doesn’t know how to connect with him. Hell,” she rolled her eyes. “Bard doesn’t even seem to know at this point. They think he feels he doesn’t have enough, erm…” she trailed off uncomfortably, eyes flashing to Legolas. 

“Positive, heterosexual, ruggedly male influences like Aragorn?” Legolas rolled his eyes. They were starting to hurt from doing so at least eighty times in one day. Tauriel nodded, looking embarrassed. Legolas felt equally uncomfortable. While his preference in partners was no secret, and no shame, clearly, seeing where their own father had found his heart, it had never been discussed in his family. In a way he was grateful. He never came out, he just was who he was. No questions asked. 

“It probably isn’t helping anyone that both Father and Bard have been working themselves to death to avoid dealing with the problem.”

Tauriel winced. “Erm, no. Probably not. But you know Father-”

“Yes, I do,” Legolas stared at her. “And so do you. Bain is a kid. Father is an adult. Avoiding an unruly step-son and hoping someone else will fix the problem? Not a very mature approach.”

Tauriel sighed. “Too bad that’s his normal approach to any emotional issue.”

Legolas nodded. The two sat in silence, mulling over their family’s growing pains. At length, Tauriel spoke. “We should try to talk to them. Both of them. Directly. At some point, eventually, in the near future. And Bard.”

He shifted uncomfortably. Confrontation of anything was not their family’s style. He had no idea how to go about this any of this, but he agreed all the same. 

“We should. But at the end of the day, they all have to be willing to face the situation. And I know Father, at least, would rather eat glass.” 

Tauriel snorted in agreement, and they lapsed into silence as they finished their meals. Legolas’ phone dinged as they were paying the bill, reminding him of the meeting he had with his stylist for that Saturday’s shoot. He and Tauriel shared a brief hug goodbye before going their separate ways. 

When Legolas arrived back at work, his father was in his private office. They made eye contact briefly, and Legolas offered up a small half smile, one of his more genuine ones. His father nodded briefly at him, a bob of his chin, before returning his eyes to his desktop screen. Legolas continued on to his own office, and let his smile slide off his face. 

And he most certainly didn’t admit to himself, deep down, in the crevices of his heart, that most of the time, he sympathized with Bain entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will be up Saturday! And, i hope this goes without saying, I am always open to constructive criticism and discussion of anything I'm writing ever. So, feel free to leave your thoughts here or on my Tumblr. See you soon!


	4. Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli goes to meet his uncle, and Tauriel makes a new friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to get this out by the 31st, but I totally fumbled the ball. My bad. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> There is a lot of Scottish slang in this, so prepare yerselves.

Chapter 4

Gimli left lunch with Aragorn feeling unsettled, a bit guilty, and absolutely overwhelmed. Not only did he have his courses to teach, research grants to apply for, papers to grade, and so on and so forth, he now had his friend’s own somewhat personal environmental crusade to help. Not to mention this whole 'Legolas Situation' and how to handle it. 

He needed a very stiff drink, and he needed it yesterday.

He had an hour to kill before he returned to his campus, and he was technically in the neighborhood, so he decided to swing by his uncle's shop and see if he was afoot. His uncle Thorin ran a jewelry store in the East Village, where Gimli now found himself, while Thorin's husband, Gimli’s uncle Bilbo, ran a small antiques appraisal shop in the West Village. Bilbo used the shop to keep busy when he wasn’t writing his best-selling adventure novels They’d been married since Gimli was a wee lad, he could scarcely recall their wedding. 

He was whistling a jaunty tune as he swung into the jewelry shop, and the merrily jingling bell above the door made for a lovely harmony. “Uncle! You here?”

“Gimli!” Thorin came bustling out of his back work room. The shop was empty, which was pretty normal since all design draw-ups and fittings were by appointment only, and it was a bit high-end for people to just wander in and browse. “How ya been, laddie?”

Gimli grinned and let his uncle grab him in a back-thumping, bracing bear hug, followed by their family’s weird customary greeting; Thorin grasped Gimli where his shoulder met his neck, and slammed their foreheads together. They pulled away roaring laughter, and Gimli all at once felt more settled than he had all day. 

“I’ve been well, uncle. How’s the shop?” 

Thorin shrugged, gesturing about. “Same as always, same as always. How have your classes been?”

Gimli huffed. “Afraid it’s all entry-level classes this semester. Lots of busy work, not much passion or enthusiasm. But I have some side projects that seem to be taking off.”

Thorin’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Oh? Anything you can share with us yet?” The nature of their family’s work sometimes led to secrecy having to be kept on certain projects and ideas until they were approved by some stuffed-up executive in a flashy suit. No one ever took it harshly. 

Most of the Durinson clan had found work in America as construction workers, masons, carpenters, contractors, jewelers, and the like. Gimli was the first to be an architect. And yet, many of their relatives had accrued quite a high-profile customer base. Building homes for bureaucrats, flipping penthouses for celebrities, designing red-carpet jewelry for artists, and more. So, over the years, having to keep mum about work for some periods of time had become standard. 

Gimli shook his head. “‘Fraid not yet. But soon I hope. How fair Bilbo and Frodo?”

Thorin’s answering smile took years off his face. “They’re doing very well. Frodo seems to finally be settling in here. He’s top of his class so far, they say he may be valedictorian. He’s got quite the gaggle of friends, always traipsing in and out of the house on adventures, Frodo always in the lead.” Gimli smiled at his uncle, happy to see the older man ready to burst with pride.

Bilbo’s younger cousin, Frodo, came to live with him and Thorin two summers ago. His parents had died in a car crash years back, and he’d been bumped from orphanages to foster homes and back all across the country for a few years before someone finally tracked down Bilbo. When Gimli first met the boy, he’d been painfully shy and quiet, all skin and bones and too-blue eyes, eyes that had seen many things. But now, after a couple of years of homeschooling to catch up, all under Bilbo’s careful tutelage, he seemed to be back on the right track. 

“I’m glad for it uncle. The boy deserves happiness.”

Thorin nodded and smiled. “Aye, that he does. He asks after you, y’know. He would very much like to tour Columbia. He’ll be applying there, and with his grades, he may just get a full ride.”

Gimli beamed. “I’d be happy to! I’ll text him tonight about it after my evening class.”

Thorin nodded. “Do you have time for a spot of tea before you go?”

“Do you have anything stronger than tea to go in said tea?”

Thorin laughed. “Sounds like you had quite the day, laddie. Come on back and tell me your woes.”

And so Gimli did. The two sat in the wonderfully overstuffed armchairs Thorin kept in his back room, and talked over Gimli’s day as their tea grew cold in their hands. Gimli vented to his uncle as much as he could; about his awful start to the morning (“Uncle, really, it’s not that funny, you can stop laughing any day now.”), followed by a lackluster entry level engineering class, and then his stressful lunch date with Aragorn and the very man who had dumped the latte on his new sweater in the first place.

At this point, Thorin could no longer hold his mirth back, and was all but howling with laughter at his nephew’s expense. Gimli tossed back the dregs of his tea, smiling despite himself.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s all have a laugh at poor Gimli.”

Thorin wiped a stray tear from his eye. “It is a favored pastime of mine. But chin up, lad. This secret project may yield more than you realize. Sometimes those who seem to walk around with a chip on their shoulder and a stick up their arse hide a heart of gold, and a soul of diamond.”

Gimli rolled his eyes at his uncle’s poetry. “Should I ask you to elaborate or will I have to listen to more of your riddles.”

Thorin cuffed his knee with his booted foot. “Hush, and respect your elders,” he settled back into his chair, folding his hands over his stomach like Bilbo often did when he was getting ready to tell one of his stories. Gimli leaned forward despite himself. “When I met Bilbo, we were both a couple of right ol’ lavvy heids. He was a homebody writer, who prized his fine china and silver cutlery and his first edition novels more than any human he’d ever met. And I was, well, y’know,” Thorin shifted a bit guiltily. “I was struggling with my gamblin’ issues, blowing money faster than I could win it, which is really saying something. He thought I was a low-life simpleton with no concept of true value, and I thought he was the snootiest prick I’d ever met, a gilded hot-air balloon, all dressed in finery with nothin’ inside.”

Gimli was listening in rapture. His family had occasionally mentioned his uncle’s struggles when they thought he couldn’t hear, back when they still lived in Glasgow. But he had never heard him speak so freely. Thorin sighed deeply, his eyes elsewhere. 

“It can be hard, wee one,” Gimli snorted to be called so at the age of 27, but held his tongue. “Bilbo and I found a reason to get better in one another. And that can be a dark road. At times, it felt more like we were dragging one another back down, or using each other as excuses. But in the end, we were both better for all of it. The fights, the splits, the tears. All of it. Because our prize was each other, whole and hale, and yet different. The same, but changed. For one another. And for the better.”

Gimli felt his heart in his throat, and spoke as though choked. “Uncle, your confidence and your words touch my heart. But I ask, why are you telling me this?” 

Thorin smiled vaguely, secretly. “Because, Gimli. This Legolas guy may seem to be a monumental pain in your baws, a right ol’ numpty. Maybe he isn’t smart like you. Maybe he’s vain, and glued to his phone. Maybe he seems to be dipped in gold leaf, and filled with naught but hot air. And maybe that’s all there is to him,” and here Thorin leaned forward to be nearly nose to nose with his nephew. “Or maybe there’s a diamond in all that rough, and all it’s gonna take is a steady friend to dig it out.”

Gimli flushed and looked down. 

“Now, that’s not to say let the daft fairy walk all over you!” Thorin leaned back, and some fire flashed in his eyes. “He does sound to be quite the asshole, and worse yet, he seems to be proud of that. Give him the duff when you’ve got to. But don’t close the door just yet. You may need whatever he can offer before you see the end of,” he gestured vaguely. “Whatever it is that flash bassa Aragorn has you doing.”

Gimli nodded. His knew his uncle had several good points. But his uncle had also never met Legolas in person. Gimli wasn’t so sure Thorin would be as confident about this when faced with the model himself. They sat in a deep contemplative silence for a moment more before Thorin clapped his large hands together harshly. The boom of it made Gimli jump, which made Thorin laugh again in turn. 

“Come on then, Gim. It’s late and I’m tired, and I’d like to see my husband before he falls asleep at his desk for the night. And you’ve got a class to be going to!”

Gimli startled and grabbed his phone. He had half an hour to haul ass across town. 

Well, fuck.

He shot out of his chair, snatching up his satchel and cardigan. He tossed the jacket on, and was hustling out of the shop in under a minute.

“Bye Uncle! See you soon, promise!”

Thorin’s booming laugh followed him out of the door. “Awa’ n bile yer head, lad! Call Frodo tonight!”

“Yessir!”

Gimli sprinted to the nearest station, all but hopping the guard rail and flying into the train. After a sweaty and anxious twenty minute ride, he was hopping off the subway and climbing up into the late autumn sunset. The university was just across the street, and he launched himself into the traffic jam that typically clogged the street from 2 to 7pm every day. Amid the honking and yelling of cab drivers, he felt his phone buzz thrice in his pocket- a new text.

He yanked his phone out as he walked up the steps onto the main campus, waving idly at passing students. 

_ New Groupchat with Aragorn and Unknown Number _

Gimli frowned and swiped the notification open. Aragorn had already texted in it.

_ A: Hello! Gimli and Legolas, the unknown numbers are you guys. We can text in here for meetups and updates as this progresses.  _

Gimli saw the unknown number was typing and felt himself curiously holding his breath. Was skimbleshanks gonna ditch them now behind the security of a phone screen. 

_ UN: Still 100000% lost on what ‘this’ is. But ok sounds good. @Aragorn don’t blow it up with ur stupid memes or I’ll mute it. _

Gimli felt a smile tugging at mouth. He fired off a quick reply.

_ G: What he said. See you both soon, going to class. _

Gimli went to put his phone in his pocket and unlock his classroom door. He idly wondered when he’d arrived there, as he couldn’t remember even entering the building. He felt some quiet guilt flash through him as he realized he’d walked to class doing exactly what Legolas had done that morning.

Whoops.

As students started filing in, coffee cups and take-out bags in hand (he had never and would never have an issue with kids eating in his class), he pulled his phone out to turn it off and saw that Legolas, still unsaved in his phone, had sent a reply.

Gimli actually laughed as he opened the text. It was a gif of some celebrity miming gagging themselves. 

Aragorn replied before he could, a few eye rolling emojis. 

Gimli smiled, and before he could think twice, sent a couple of laughing emojis in reply. Hopefully the other man would take it as the scant, tentative peace offering it was. He turned his phone off before he could overthink something as innocuous as a few emojis, and opened his laptop to bring up his lesson for that evening. 

* * *

Kili sat slumped in the filling lecture hall, watching his cousin smile at his phone before tucking it away. His brow quirked. That was new. He’d have to dig around and see what that was about. The thought floated into and left his mind quickly, holding his attention as poorly as most things did. He slumped further if that was possible, and opened his laptop with a huff. 

He didn’t even need to be here. Or want to be here. He was only here because his uncle Thorin had decided he could benefit from some structured learning, a better work ethic, and a degree. Which, after much arguing among many people, had come to be translated to being Gimli’s problem. Gimli had smiled and helped him through the application process and enrollment and class selection, and Kili was truly grateful deep down. He just hated being pawned off as the family’s problem kid. He was supposed to be helping Thorin, getting ready to take over the shop. Instead he was here. Learning architecture for buildings he never wanted to construct.

Kili yawned until his jaw cracked, and pulled up his Pokemon Emerald hack. At least he could log some hours in before class ended. This immensely productive train of thought was interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder. 

“Hi, sorry, practically every other seat is taken. Is it okay if I sit here?”

Kili blinked and looked up, and felt his mouth go dry as his eyes fully processed the most beautiful face he had ever seen, leaned over him in question. “Uh, um, no yeah, I mean, like, yeah, no it’s alright, like,” he paused to clear his throat and sat up so fast his back cracked, gesturing to the seat. “Go for it?”

The woman smirked a bit at his expense, and Kili felt his face warm up. Those had not been his smoothest moves, granted. He offered a smile as she sat down. “I’m Kili. You? I haven’t seen you here yet, are you sure you’ve got the right room.”

She smiled a bit, but Kili noted that her eyes were ice-hard, and defensive. “I was away on family business for the first few weeks of the semester, I emailed Dr. Durinson about it. He was very understanding.”

Kili snorted. “Yeah, he’s good for that,” he scrubbed a hand through his five o-clock shadow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound judge-y. Just curious. I hope everything is okay.” He offered her a small but genuine smile, and thrilled silently when some of the ice seemed to melt away. 

“Thank you, Kili. I’m Tauriel,” she murmured. The class was beginning to quiet as Gimli pulled up his lesson. “Have you had Durinson before?”

Kili snorted, hooking his right earbud over his ear to hear her better. “Nah, not really. He’s my cousin. This is my first semester.”

Tauriel blinked, clearly surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry. You looked older than a freshman.”

“I am,” Kili grimaced. “I’m 21.”

Tauriel was regarding him silently, and Kili felt like she was trying to pry him apart with her eyes alone. It was alluring, and yet wildly unnerving. “Forgive me for being so bold, but you really don’t seem like you want to be here.”

Kili nodded. “Very observant, Tauriel. I don’t,” at her quizzical look, he shrugged. “It’s family business, y’know?”

She blinked to have her words thrown back at her, then smiled. Kili’s stomach made a rather distressing attempt to hand-jive into his diaphragm. “Touche, Kili.” 

They lapsed into silence as Gimli began reviewing the proper methods for sketching a draft, and the supplies he would expect them all to have by October. So, like, next week. Awesome. Kili tuned him out rather early on, but instead of pulling his game back up, he opened a google document, and scrolled through the university’s list of pre-programmed student emails and selected the only Tauriel he would probably ever know. He shared the blank document with her, and smirked at her when the notification popped up on her sleek, white macbook. She clicked it, and entered the document. 

_ ‘So’ _ Kili typed out.  _ ‘Got any plans after lecture?’ _

He didn’t dare to breathe as Tauriel stilled. She threw him a rather healthy dose of scrutiny from the side of her eye, and he returned it as best he could. They stared each other down in a weird side-eye stand-off as Gimli’s voice rumbled like a thunderstorm in the background. She broke the eye contact first, lithe and long fingers flying over the keypad.

_ ‘I was going to camp out at the library and work on the paper we have due for this class on Friday.’ _

Kili felt his heart beat loudly for two reasons. 

_ ‘What paper.’ _

Tauriel seemed to bite down on a very amused grin. Kili was sure his new panic was palpable. She typed again. 

_ ‘It’s not too crazy. You have time.’ _

She paused, and Kili watched her bite her lower lip in thought. She typed again quickly before closing the document.

_ ‘If you can bring coffee, I would certainly welcome the company.’ _

Kili grinned, and nodded toward her. She smiled back softly and then pulled up her notes again. He smiled, started to pull up his game, and paused. After a moment of deliberation, he opened a new blank document, and began copying down his cousin’s lecture. 

He was so intent on jotting down notes, he missed Tauriel’s secretive, speculative smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up on the 4th. It's incredibly long, so it may be split into two parts. Please let me know your thoughts, concerns, dislikes, likes, all of it. Thank you for reading!


	5. Oh, What a Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild night for all involved. We're talking gay clubs, Daddy Issues, Gandalf, and more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated splitting this into two parts because it is...long...to say the least. But it flows too solidly as is, and I like long chapters. I'm gonna be upping the rating of this soon for situations and language so I hope that works for everyone. This may (read: will almost definitely) eventually contain smut. 
> 
> This chapter has makeouts, grinding, gay slang, drinking, and more.

Chapter 5 

Legolas needed today to end. He needed it to curl up, shrivel, and die, and he needed it yesterday. He was seated at his desk in his office, adjacent and smaller to the one his father worked from. His was more of a comfortable, new-age modern lodge carved from marble and granite, while his father’s was a sterile throne room, all hard edges and pure white surfaces. Legolas always felt like he was under a microscope in there.

He let his socked toes dig into his plush, white carpet, and enjoyed the sound of the electric (and sadly, fake) fireplace crackling behind him. It was 6 o’clock on a Thursday night, and as much as he loved his office and his job, he wanted out, now.

Legolas let his chin fall into his palm, and flicked open the calendar on his desktop to see if he had any standing appointments for tomorrow morning. It appeared to be clear until 12, at which point when he was supposed to meet up with Tauriel, Sigrid, Tilda, and a reluctant Bain. The next event he had blocked off was his Saturday meeting with Gimli and Aragorn to discuss the more sensitive details of the situation away from prying ears and eyes. So, after much debate, they had yet to decide if they were meeting in GImli's private office on campus, or Legolas' apartment.

Legolas had been doing much of the debating. He didn't want to dust. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, the groupchat notification popped up in the corner of the screen. He clicked and opened it, happy to see the cramped calendar covered. He chuckled at he skimmed Aragorn’s brief but expletive-laden text about annoying PR assistants, and how much he loathed interviews. He was slated to appear on Conan tonight, and if there was one this Aragorn hated, it was small talk. Legolas sent a blithely sympathetic frowny face, and a moment later, a gif of a cartoon crab-thing playing a microscopic violin popped up from Gimli. Legolas chewed the inside of a grin to keep it from growing too large. He had yet to meet the man again in person, but Professor Durinson was proving to be a sharp wit over text, at least. 

Flicking back to the calendar, Legolas double checked he had the next morning free. Then, he opened his instagram. With a few clicks, he had set up a poll on his story, and the votes were already pouring in. He had posed the question,

**Check out Prancing Pony (new gay club)**

**Or**

**Stay in and drink wine (and try a new hairmask)**

And his followers were not disappointing him. Within five minutes, there was a 70% vote for going out, and Legolas found that he was not remotely disappointed. He closed his browsers down, saved his work, and gathered up his stuff. He stopped into his father’s office to say goodnight, as was their routine. His father’s eyes were glued to his monitor, per usual, when Legolas sauntered in. The room was dark, as the sun had long since dipped below the skyline level their offices were at. Legolas sighed, flicking on some low light to take the strain of his father’s eyes. Thranduil blinked, startled, and looked up at his son. 

“Goodnight, Father. I’ll see you this weekend at some point.” 

Thranduil’s brow furrowed. “Leaving already, Legolas? It’s only-” he cut himself off to glance at the clock, and his brows furrowed. “Ah. I see the hour has grown later than I realized,” he looked back to his son. “Goodnight, son. You’re taking the young ones to the museum tomorrow, then?”

Legolas nodded, letting his eyes drift around his father’s cold, sterile, fashionably utilitarian office. “Yes, with Tauriel. Will I see you when we pick them up? Or will you be here?” Thranduil hesitated to answer, and Legolas felt his frustration nip at him. “Right, yeah, why would you ever be anywhere else?” he muttered under his breath. 

Thranduil’s gaze snapped to him, cold and burning like a fire trapped under a thick sheet of ice. “Legolas, you know I-”

Legolas was already spinning on his heel toward the door. “Yep, got it, I know the drill,” he hesitated at the large glass doors, eyes never leaving the inlaid crystal detailing set into the glass inches from his face. “See you Monday, or whatever.”

He swept from the office and the building, ignoring the building pressure behind his eyes and deep in his skull, focused only on getting home, getting changed, and then getting drunk.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gimli sighed as the bouncer checked his I.D. and waved him through. This new club was definitely not his usual scene, but it had come highly recommended by a trusted colleague at the school. After the week he’d had, Gimli needed something a bit more intense than his usual booth at the tavern down the block from his apartment. His cousin Fili was coming to scrape him off of whatever surface he could get himself plastered to in three hours, so he had to make the most of it. 

He self-consciously adjusted his flannel as he made his way to the bar. His only hope for these situations was that he had no students out there in the throng of people. Not that they would recognize him, odds are. Professor Durinson wore sweaters and blue jeans and steel-toed boots, the occasional cardigan or maybe a warm, proper flannel for the winter. He wore glasses when he taught, and kept himself looking tidy. 

Gimli himself was an entirely different story.

Gone were the glasses and sweaters, replaced by leather and more piercings than one should reasonably have. Tonight he was wearing a low-cut navy and black flannel, and where the buttons stopped just below his sternum, leather laces took over. He left them carefully loose, exposing the upper center of his broad, furred barrel chest. Over this he wore a thick leather jacket studded here and there with sapphires. He dropped said leather jacket over the back of a tall chair at the black granite bar, which left his heavily tattooed arms exposed. Sleeveless flannels were among the most useless articles of clothing in the world, in Gimli’s opinion, but damn if they didn’t look good.

He ordered a whiskey neat from the man at the bar, then turned to lean back against it and observe the other people at the club, dancing and talking and milling about. The music was loud, and not to his taste, but not too loud or too trashy. 

The bartender handed him his drink, and he had just begun chatting up a slightly taller, and very handsome young man with a pink shock of hair, when a flash of platinum gold caught the corner of his eye. His head swiveled to follow the sight, he always did have a weak spot for blonds, but it was lost in the throng of the crowd. Gimli shrugged, pushing away the little twang of disappointment. The night was young, and the club wasn’t huge. He’d try to find the pretty blond later, if his conversation with Pink didn’t work out. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Legolas bobbed and weaved through the mass of bodies on the dance floor of the Prancing Pony, keeping one eye on the drink in his hand and the other on the faces floating past him. He wasn’t necessarily looking to go home with anyone tonight, but he certainly wasn’t opposed. The heartbeat thump of the current song’s bass was drumming a pleasant tattoo into Legolas’ skull, and he felt his worries sliding away with every sip he took of his drink. 

A slightly shorter, but well built man brushed up against Legolas’ chest, and before he knew it, the two of them were pressed together in the middle of the floor, swaying and grinding. His dance partner was wearing a bead studded varsity jacket, and he could feel the indenting press of every sequin through his mesh tee. It wasn’t the warmest shirt, but it got across any point Legolas was trying to make in these situations. His shimmering silk green track pants and rainbow high-top converse probably helped. He had left his hair long, loosely braided away from his face per usual. 

Before he knew it, Legolas was out of drink, as was his new found friend. He grabbed the glass from him, and gestured toward the bar. Legolas winked and began sauntering away, putting a bit of extra swap in his hips like he was on a catwalk. He pivoted around two girls who seemed intent on swallowing one another, and froze.

There, across the room at a high top table, was his most recent ex. 

Haldir. 

Legolas tried to turn and duck away back into the crowd, but Haldir turned just as he got his legs moving again, and they locked eyes.

Shit. 

Legolas felt himself sneer, even as a blush worked its way into the tips of his ears and the high apples of his cheeks. Haldir sent him a mean and lascivious smirk, and began to move off his chair. Now Legolas did turn from the scene, and all but ran for the bar, fighting to keep composure. He cast his eyes about as he slammed the glasses on the bar top, looking for some way,  _ any  _ way, out of an impending conversation with his ex. And then his gaze landed on the last person he expected to see tonight.

Gimli Durinson. 

Legolas actually did a double take when he saw him, and when his brain caught up to his eyes, his throat ran drier than the Sahara. Gimli was...a total bear. The boots he had on did nothing for his height, but the black jeans criss-crossed with glinting metal chains did everything for his lower build. He was wearing a sleeveless flannel-hoodie-hybrid monstrosity that, if Legolas had ever seen on a rack, he would buy just to burn. But on Gimli? A game changer. His arms were decorated in varying shades of brown and black ink, symbols and patterns spiraling away across his, frankly, massive arms. 

Gimli looked like he could bench press Legolas six ways from Sunday.

‘ _ And I’d thank him to do so _ .’ The thought came unbidden into Legolas’ mind, and he shoved it away and locked it up before it could take hold of him. Legolas glanced back, saw Haldir a few scant feet away, clearly looking for him, and made up his mind before he could accept what a bad choice he was making.

He swaggered on over to Gimli, who was chatting up some pink haired twink, oozing fake confidence and marginally-less-fake entitlement. He tapped Pinky on the shoulder, and when he turned, shoved past him to Gimli. He saw the red-heads eyes widen as he registered who was in front of him. Legolas grabbed his face, aiming for a jawline underneath all that beard. 

And by god did he find a jawline. His fingers pressed into soft skin and thick neck muscle, following the hard edge of the other man’s strong jawbone. Legolas most certainly did not take a brief second to knead at it with the pads of his fingers.

Exactly how much had he had to drink? 

He leaned into Gimli’s ear, pushing his body into the shorter man’s personal bubble. 

Legolas spoke as normally as he could, and fought to keep his rising anxiety at bay. “I’m going to need you to go along with the next thirty or so seconds and be as cool as possible. I’ll explain after,” he hesitated, and then bit out. “And I’m really sorry about this, Pinky was cute.”

And then he was kissing Gimli. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gimli was absolutely reeling. One second he’d been convincing David with the Pink Hair that it wasn’t a far walk to grab a nightcap, that he was sober enough to cancel his ride with Fili, and the next, Legolas Lasgalen was in front of him in what could only be described as the twunkiest outfit Gimli had ever seen, and then, even more oddly, he was kissing him. 

Actually, kissing might be a tame term for what Legolas was doing to him. But he had seemed desperate, scared, and regretful. So, Gimli decided that he may as well see this through.

Gimli’s brain restarted with a jolt, and he gripped Legolas’ hips hard enough to bruise. He was clearly trying to put on a show, and Gimli found himself concerningly eager to play his part. He'd blame the top-shelf whiskey. He tilted his head into the hand Legolas had placed along his jaw, and began moving his lips against the other man’s with as much vigor as he could. Which was a fair amount.

He felt a tongue swipe against his lower lip, gentle and teasing, and he parted his lips to return the favor, albeit less gently. Gimli grabbed Legolas’ lower lip in small bite, and when the blond gasped, pushed into him with his own pierced tongue, making sure to press the stud into Legolas’ tongue. Legolas moaned, and Gimli felt one of his knees buckle a bit. The gentle hold on his bearded jaw became an iron grip (were those callouses? On the _model's _hands?), and before he could really register what he himself was doing, he had spun them around, and slammed Legolas into the bar. 

They broke for air, panting, regarding one another with wide eyes. As Gimli caught his breath, he made his peace with surrendering his dignity for the night in exchange for another taste of Legolas’ lips. He leaned up, and felt himself delighted and confused when Legolas leaned down just as eagerly. The long, delicate fingers in his beard moved to rest on his biceps, and knead the muscle they found there. Before they could really get back into whatever poor decision they were making for the night, a high and snide voice cut through.

“Really, Leg? Didn't know you went in for bear meat.”

Gimli was content to brush off the comment and continue on, but he felt Legolas grow stiff as a board beneath him. The grip on his arms became bruising, and the lips that had been nipping their way from his mouth to his neck stopped just below the ear. Gimli sneered over Legolas’ head, pivoting and angling himself more toward the interrupter. 

“Ye mind soddin’ off, blondie? Kind of in the middle of something here.”

The (clearly fake) blond quirked a thin eyebrow at him. “Oh? Are you?”

Legolas pulled his face out of Gimli’s neck, though his hands didn’t leave his arms. Gimli, for his part, kept his firmly on Legolas’ hips. “Yes, we are.”

Fake Blond flicked his eyes over Legolas, lingering on his mesh exposed chest for a few seconds too long. Gimli frowned. Yes, the model Aragorn had elected to befriend was an absolute prick. They’d met twice, thrice counting this, and Gimli didn’t trust him as far as he could toss him yet, let alone like him all that much. (And, really, the lad was a toothpick. He could probably launch him to the Hudson from here.) But he wasn’t a bad man, of that Gimli was sure. Not like this douche bag in front of him, blatantly ogling someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. 

Legolas was flushed, and his hands were shaking. Out of rage or anxiety or embarrassment, Gimli wasn’t sure. But he decided enough was enough. “Alright, laddie, that’s enough of that. C’mon Legolas, let’s get out of here.”

He made to tug Legolas away, but the intruder laughed, and cut in. “Really, Legolas, are you such a bottom that you’re letting this fuzzy little goblin fight your battles?”

Gimli saw rage and embarrassment flare in Legolas’ eyes, and before he could stop the taller man, Legolas had picked his half-finished pint off the bar and flung the contents into the other blond’s eyes. Fake Blond shrieked, stumbling back into a group on the dance floor. “Fuck off, Haldir, and shut your fucking mouth. Literally no one else on this planet talks like that, you fucking prick.”

Gimli found himself somewhat speechless, but he remembered to grab his jacket off the bar chair before grabbing Legolas’ elbow in a bruising grip and moving them toward the door, Haldir’s shouting following them out the door. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Legolas’ brain didn’t catch up to them until they were two blocks away from the club. His hand shot out to Gimli’s shoulder, and he steadied his suddenly weak knees. 

Gimli, who had been walking alongside him in silence, glanced up. “Ye alright, laddie?”

Legolas nodded, then shook his head. “What the fuck just happened.”

“Was sort of hoping you could tell me.”

He nodded again, robotic. “Got somewhere we could go? Somewhere private. And warm?”

Gimli paused, thinking. Then he shook his head and looked at Legolas. He had his arms wrapped around his all but bare chest, the night chill of fall setting in. He stifled a laugh, feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated, and handed Legolas his leather jacket. 

“Here. The sleeves will be short, but the chest should be plenty roomy.”

Legolas took it with some hesitation, wrapping it around himself. He let the sleeves hang empty, instead tucking his long arms into the broad middle of the jacket. He glanced at Gimli, and smiled very slightly. “Thank you.”

Gimli nodded, also smiling cautiously. “I know a cafe that’s open till, like, 2 or 3 most nights. The owner is kind of a nutjob, but a nice guy. Cranky. But the coffee is great, and its warm and quiet and private,” Gimli tossed him a roguish and amused grin, and Legolas felt his heart do a funny little wiggle. “They might even have lattes, if you’re lucky.”

Legolas felt himself grinning back, and laughed a bit. “Then lead on.”

They walked in silence the four blocks to the shop, the quiet night broken only by Gimli calling someone named Fili on the phone and telling him he was going for a nightcap with someone from the club. He hung up on what sounded like a wolf whistle, grumbling and shoving the phone in his pocket. Legolas wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he just kept silent. Before long, Gimli ducked down an alley, and paused at a door near the middle of the corridor. There was a faded, peeling wooden sign hanging from a wrought iron spoke above the door, but the name had long since worn away. Gimli knocked thrice, then pushed open the door. 

Legolas, for the first time, became a bit concerned that he was going to be murdered. Before he could voice this concern though, Gimli turned back to him with a faint smile, but warm eyes. “This must seem pretty sketchy to you, eh?”

“A bit, yes,” Legolas smirked. “This place seems rather too well lit and cozy to be a body dump, though.”

Gimli snorted. “You’re fun, y’know that? Up we go, then.” The door had opened onto a ground floor landing, with warped wooden stairs leading up to another door. Legolas followed with mild trepidation, but that soon faded as the smell coffee wafted from up above to greet him.

Really,  _ really _ good coffee, as far as he could tell. 

Gimli opened the door, and brought them forward into what looked to be a hybrid bookshop and cafe. The space was large, but dwarfed from within by the multitude of hanging plants, armchairs, couches, cushions, and tables scattered about. Some tables had chess boards carved on painted on, others had stacks of books or board games. The space was divided into a maze by the stretches of bookshelves cast about. Some were tall, nearly grazing the ceiling, others squat. Some were odd shapes, a pyramid of tomes there, an amoebus stack of novels here, and so on. The carpeting was rich green, thick and fluffy under Legolas’ converse. The smell of brewed coffee permeated the entire room, accompanied by notes of freshly baked scones and biscotti, and, even more faintly, tobacco leaves. The far wall was dominated by a roaring hearth that Legolas wasn’t entirely sure was up to code, let alone safe.

And yet he had never felt warmer or cozier in all his life. 

He turned to Gimli, and was sure his amazement was plain on his face. In return, the redhead seemed more than a bit smug, but jovially so.

“What is this place?”

Gimli cast his gaze about. “An old family friend’s store. I’ve been coming here with my cousins since I was a wee bairn. Feels like home now, y’know?”

Legolas nodded even though, no, he really didn’t know. This place was comforting in a way he never knew his life was lacking, until this moment. He wanted to know, though. 

“Care to show me around?” Legolas affected as much careful boredom into his tone as he could. This night was getting wildly away from him, and he began to carefully slide back into place the walls Gimli had broken through, however minutely, around his thoughts and feelings. Gimli regarded him silently, eyes boring into his. At length, he nodded.

“Aye, yeah, but let me first find our host.”

A rough and gravelly voice, warm like the scraping of metal over stone, cut through the room. “No need for that, young master Durin. I am here.”

Gimli turned toward the voice as a man came around the corner of a shelf. “Gandalf! It is good to see you again, my friend.”

The man, Gandalf, smiled. “And it is good to see you as well. And who is this?

The two shared a warm smile, and the older man clasped Gimli’s shoulder with hidden strength as they stepped further into the shop. He turned to Legolas then, and the younger man was struck by the depth of sheer knowledge Gandalf held in his gaze. He gulped and fidgeted with the hemming of Gimli’s jacket. It was wearing, and would need some repair soon, he marked in the back of his mind. 

Legolas cleared his throat and tossed his hair. He stuck out a hand from his warm cocoon in offering to Gandalf. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Legolas.”

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled as he grasped his hand in return. “Hello, Legolas. Forgive this being an odd question, but are you by any chance related to a man named Thranduil?”

Legolas balked. How in the hell-? “Y-Yes, I am. Um, he's my father.”

“Really!” Gandalf’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “It has been many years since your father set foot in my shop, but I hadn’t realized just how many indeed.”

Now Legolas was baffled. “Since- huh? Father? In here?” His cheeks colored a moment later when he realized the offense his bewilderment could be taken as. “That is, um, I don’t mean to say that- You have a lovely shop, truly, I adore it already. It just does not seem to be my father’s, uh, scene.”

Gandalf nodded. “I’ve known many people over my years owning this place. Some go, some stay, others come in rounds like a seasonal tide. Your father was a struggling undergraduate the last time I saw him, laboring over designs and textiles like none I had ever seen. I dearly hope his passion worked out for him, as such ardor for creation is rare indeed."

‘This guy speaks like Ghandi probably did, but with more weed,’ Legolas thought to himself idly. Out loud, he responded, “He would say it worked out for him very well. Most would, really. He works for Oscar de la Renta. Head of the company here in the city, and very proud of that.”

Gandalf nodded as if in contention, but his eyes searched Legolas’ face as though looking for answers to questions not asked. Legolas struggled not to fidget. And then, between one breath and the next, Gandalf’s face was once again that of a happy old man. “Good, good. All is well then. Now, please, both of you sit, get comfortable. I’ll bring over my midnight special, even though that hour is a bit behind us.”

Legolas saw Gimli check his phone, and glanced at the time from over his shoulder. It was a bit past 1 am now. Legolas groaned as trudged over to the most overstuffed papasan chair he had ever seen. It looked like a burgundy cloud smushed into a bamboo skeleton. He fell into it with a  _ ffwumph!  _ and sighed contentedly. Gimli sank into the worn and soft-looking recliner opposite him, and vaguely he heard a chuckle. Legolas was certain he looked ridiculous; his hair had long since been tangled and unbraided, Gimli’s jacket was dwarfing his build, and his limbs were jutting into the air from his prone position at ungainly angles. He could not truly bring himself to care. 

After a moment he hauled himself into a sitting-ish position. “So, erm, Gimli. Do you come here a lot?”

Gimli quirked a pierced eyebrow, and the metal caught the amber lamplight. “Nae. Well, aye, I used ta’. But nowadays I’ve been just a bit too busy,” he chuckled a bit, running a hand along the chess board inlaid on the oak table between them. “I came often, all too often, probably, as an undergrad and when I was doing my masters. Post-doc, though, I was more often abroad than in the city. And ever since, I suppose my visits have gotten away from me.”

Legolas nodded, surprised that he was no actually feigning interest. Gimli’s voice was a deep, rich brogue, and he found himself hanging on the cadence of each word. When the man wasn’t being a collegiate snob, he wasn’t half bad. 

“You said you used to come here with your cousins? Do they live in the city?”

Gimli nodded. “Aye, some. I have quite a large family, but I am closest with my cousins, Kili and Fili, and my uncle Thorin. And my own parents and sister, of course,” he paused, and then began to rummage under the table. “What about you, laddie? Family in the city or just you?”

Legolas smirked. “I actually do believe I’m older than you, so feel free to drop the ‘laddie’ any time,” he watched as Gimli rolled his eyes and bit back a silly grin. This wasn’t so bad. “And yes, my father and step-father live uptown, as do my sister and our step-siblings.”

Gimli righted himself, a little burlap pouch in hand. He emptied its contents onto the table, chess pieces rolling everywhere. Legolas lurched forward to grab some before they fell off. 

“Not bad reflexes, lad,” Gimli chuckled, and he narrowed his eyes. “Step-family, eh? Sounds like quite a tale.”

Legolas nodded, though he kept his eyes fixed on the chess board. He began setting up the pieces to keep his fingers occupied. “Yes, it is. An on-going one at that, so,” he shrugged a bit self-deprecatingly and offered a wan smile. “I’ll let you know how it ends someday.”

Gimli nodded, and dropped what he could see was a bit of a heavy topic. But, curiosity killed the cat, and all that. “So you have a sister?”

Legolas flashed him a pointed grin. “Interested?”

Gimli coughed and then laughed. “Ah, no, I think we both made that fairly clear tonight.”

Legolas felt his own face heat up. “Uh, right, yes,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, again. But yes, I have a younger sister, Tauriel. She’s 21.”

Gimli’s eyes widened. “Tauriel! Now, she wouldn’t happen to be going to Columbia would she? I highly doubt there’s another Tauriel Lasgalen around here.”

Legolas stared back. “Yes, she is. Why?”

“She’s in my class, that’s all. She and my cousin, Kili, have taken a bit of a shine to one another. Huh, small world here in the big city.”

Legolas nodded, recalling his lunch with his sister and the horrid gen-ed paper she claimed she was struggling to write. The irony was nearly overwhelming. “Yes, so there’s her, and then my three younger siblings now. Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda, and they’re 16, 13, and 9.”

Gimli’s eyes were wide and amused. “Your poor fathers.”

Legolas found himself chuckling a bit. “Yes, it’s quite the age gauntlet. How about your sister?”

“She’s 33. Married and has a couple of wee bairns of her own. Cute kids, I’m lucky to be their uncle. She herself works in carpentry and masonry. Keeps her very busy, and fulfilled. I’m happy for her.”

Legolas nodded, and the two lapsed into a not uncomfortable silence. Gandalf dropped their drinks off a moment later, and they both shared a chuckle over the latte he’d placed before Legolas. 

“I am, um, sorry, that we met under such absurd circumstances.” 

Gimli nodded, albeit warily. “Yes, me too.”

Legolas swallowed, and considered letting the silence fill in again, but he steeled himself and pressed on. Gimli had helped him out tonight, he had to try for his sake. “I should have been looking where I was going. I’ll have the sweater dry cleaned for you.”

Gimli shook his head, but his eyes were warm. “It’s from Target, lad. No need to go to such extremes. But thank you.”

Legolas nodded, and knew his ears were flushed. “After that, and, uh, tonight, I really owe you one. Or, like, one a half.”

Gimli chucked. “I know all about dodging exes, Legolas, and it was no trouble, really,” Legolas was amused to see the other man’s ears grow a bit rosy as well. “It was certainly not the worst way I’ve ever had to help a friend. It was, ahem, ah, y’know. Good.”

Legolas chortled, though for once not at anyone’s expense but his own. “I’ve, ah, never kissed anyone with a tongue piercing. It was interesting.”

Gimli smirked. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He laughed a bit at Legolas’ glare before sobering. “That man, Hall-dirt, or whatever-”

“Haldir.” Legolas corrected, laughing lightly. 

“Yeah, that guy. He seemed like a real prick, sorry for my bluntness.”

Legolas shrugged. “No offense taken. He’s a very distant family friend, actually, and he wanted more than what I could offer him at the time. He had a hard time taking no for an answer, and then when he got it through his thick head, he became vicious and cruel. It was nearly a year ago.”

Gimli nodded in sympathy. “Been there, done that, as the Americans say.”

Legolas smirked. “Amen, Gimli. Now, do you actually know how to play chess? Or are all those degrees just for show?

And so they whiled away another hour and a half drinking their coffee and playing chess, the banter and laughter flowing between them rhythmically. Legolas could not remember a time when spending time with another person had not been tedious, and instead fun. When they finally stumbled out of the shop and into their respective Ubers, it was with fond smiles and well-wishes. And when, another half an hour later, Legolas flopped into his king-sized bed at half past 3 am, the small but persistent smile he'd sported for most of the night had yet to leave him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Things are afoot. Gandalf is shifty. Y'know, the usual. Next chapter: museums, little hellions, plot thickenings and more Lasgalen-Bowman family time comin' at ya! The chapter after will circle back to our central plot, promise. Hope you enjoy!


	6. To Learn is to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Tauriel take the Bardlings to the museum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay with this chapter. It just didn't want to end! Everyone had something to say and they ran with with it. Next chapter will be up by Friday if not sooner. Thank you all for your patience.

The American Museum of Natural History was always a grand and busy sight to behold. Tour groups, class trips, and the museum “regulars” bustled about, gathering in swarms and drifting apart like bees in a hive. Legolas found himself idly people-watching as he typed out his morning tweet, waiting for Tauriel to finish getting the admission tickets. He was excited to post pictures of their little outing tonight; his followers loved any and all glimpses or mentions of his siblings, and Legolas loved their views. 

He pushed away the flash of guilt that came with mildly exploiting “family time”, but with less ease than usual. He chalked it up to being completely exhausted. 

He had gotten in from his decidedly un-wild night with Gimli around 3, and was awake, dressed, washed, and on the train across town by 9. He had met Tauriel about halfway, as she lived in an apartment near the university and they’d stopped to grab coffee. She had taken in his sunglasses, less-than-perfect hair, and sub-par (read, not designer) outfit with only a raised eyebrow. She didn’t pry, and Legolas was more content to let her think whatever she wanted than tell her what a disaster mess his evening had turned into.

Or how much he had enjoyed it.

The kids had all been excited to see them, in their own ways. Sigrid and Tilda had hugged them in greeting, and Bain had deigned to not scowl quite so fiercely when they wished him a good morning. Bard had been happy as ever to see them, and had given them his signature bear-hug hello. Legolas would never admit it, but Bard gave really awesome “dad hugs”, as Tauriel called them, and he never passed up the opportunity for one. 

And now, here they were. Legolas was just adding a filter and some stickers to his Snapchat of the brachy-o-whatever-a-saurus skeleton that was in the lobby when Tilda came bouncing up to him. 

“Leg!”

He smiled down at her. “What’s up, Tild?”

“Are you excited?”

“You know I am,” he lied. “Are you? What’s your project on?”

“I was gonna do dinosaurs, but then I couldn’t pick just one. And they have very long names. So I’m going to do mammals.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her shoes lighting up pink and purple. She gripped her glittery pen and galaxy notebook tightly to her chest. 

Legolas nodded sagely. “That sounds reasonable to me. And, hey, maybe you can do dinosaurs next year. Plenty of time to learn the names then.”

Tilda shrugged. “Maybe, yeah.” She looked up at the large long-dead beast before them, chewing her lip. Legolas knew that Tilda sometimes retreated into her own thoughts for periods at a time. She had a very active mind, and it sometimes raced ahead of her words. Legolas sympathized wholeheartedly, and never pushed her to speak in moments like this. 

Eventually, Tauriel led the older two over and handed Legolas his ticket. He turned to Sigrid and Bain. 

“And what are your projects? Do you both have stuff to do here?”

Sigrid smiled. “I want to write about the universe expanding and contracting, and how scientists use the stars to tell. It’s called the Doppler effect!” 

Legolas smiled and nodded. In two words Sigrid had lost him entirely, but if she was excited than so was he. He turned to Bain.

He shrugged. “I have a project in environmental science due before Thanksgiving. I don’t know what to do it on, or if I’ll even find anything to write about here.”

Legolas’ breath hitched. “Erm, yeah, that’s really interesting, Bain!” he tried to shove some passion into his tone. “You know, my friend Aragorn is an environmental scientist-type-dude. I might, um, be able to toss some ideas out.”

Bain regarded him in that unimpressed teenage way, but Legolas refused to be intimidated by the same little shit who, just this morning, had declared “Starbucks is gay, anyway” and then dabbed. He looked back at him, just as unimpressed, until Tauriel rolled her eyes and began herding them into the museum. He caught Sigrid’s eye, and rolled his eyes, delighting in her snort of amusement. At least his sisters all liked him.

They meandered through the halls, Tilda gasping and pointing happily as they strolled along. Legolas hung back and walked with her at a more lax pace, indulging in her delight and letting it brighten him. Tilda was filled with questions and facts, so much so that Legolas found himself learning more from her than the exhibits around them. They circled the Hall of North American Mammals, pausing so Tilda could take notes at each diorama. 

“Did you know whales are mammals, and not fish?”

“Or that mammals and dinosaurs lived together?”

“Legolas! Did you know that polar bears aren’t white? Their fur is clear!”

“Oh! Did you know-”

And so it went. Legolas saw Bain jam his airpods in at some point, and even Sigrid wandered a bit further off with Tauriel. He understood them, but did not shut Tilda down. Something about her incessant and animated view of learning struck a chord with him, and he listened idly, nodding here and there. Not to mention, he was actually learning something for once in many years. It was a novel experience. 

Eventually, they had circled all the different mammal halls, divided by region. Tauriel checked over Tilda’s notes as Bard had asked her to do. Satisfied, she nodded, and they began their trek toward the Planetarium and Space Exhibit. Bain was doing a fantastic imitation of a dead man walking, so Legolas paused. 

“Bain, do you want to take a walk around and look for project ideas instead of going to the planetarium?”

Bain shrugged. “I don’t think I’m gonna find anything in here. It’s all the dead stuff. Or, y’know, almost dead stuff.”

Legolas paused and thought. That was true. This was a history museum, filled with fossils, gems, mammal carcasses, and space facts. Not much in here was gonna be relevant. But maybe- 

“You know,” he tried to affect a casual tone. “Central Park is just outside. I bet you’ll find something relevant there. People are always staging rallies and protests and demonstrations and whatever else in the name of Mother Nature. Maybe you can report on one of their causes.”

Tauriel was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. And she was justified. That was probably more than he and Bain had ever said to each other ever, and probably one of the most somewhat-informed things he’d ever said period. About a topic that wasn’t Korean skin care products. He shifted self-consciously, crossing his arms and tossing his head. He’d tossed it up in a bun this morning, so the effect was all but lost.

Bain was scowling, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Tauriel slung an arm around Sigrid. “Alright, Legolas and Bain, head out to the park. We’ll meet you there in an hour-ish. Tilda? Who would you like to go with?”

Tilda looked back and forth between the groups. She blinked up at Sigrid. “Am I gonna like the Plantarium?”

Sigrid smiled a bit. “It’s a little boring. Lot’s of open space and metal and big words.”

Tilda scowled. “Like Dad’s office?”

Tauriel snickered. “Yes, love, a bit.”

“Ew. I’ll go with Leg and Bain.”

Legolas nodded and Bain blessed them with his signature eye roll of acceptance. “C’mon then, Tild. Bain. I wanna grab hot chocolate before we head out.”

They made their way to the museum’s cafe, where Legolas placed an order for three hot chocolates. He brought the extra two over to Tilda and Bain, sitting at one of the tiny tables, all but lost in the sea of people crammed in the room. They head down the levels of the museum, pausing a couple times for Tilda to gawk at a display or a fossil, and once for Bain to snap a selfie with a neanderthal skeleton. Legolas wasn’t sure he wanted to know what he was going to caption it. 

Eventually, they walked out into the early afternoon sun, Tilda grasping his hand and Bain pulling a tablet out of his backpack. They crossed the street, and began to walk along one of the well-trimmed paths of Central Park. Legolas pulled out his phone to snap some pictures of the trees and flowers and birds. He’d always had a very deep appreciation for green things, growing things, living things. He felt a tug on his jacket hem.

Tilda was looking up at him with her hopeful eyes. “Can we take a selfie?”

Legolas smiled. “Always, hon. Here,” he looked around, and tugged her off the footpath and under a maple tree, explosive and riotous in its autumn display. He dropped down to one knee and pulled her against his left side with the hand that was still clutching his paper cup. He took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, swapping them out for his iPhone. He flicked open Snapchat. “Funny one or a real one?”

Tilda pursed her lips, stained with hot chocolate, thinking hard. “Real one. But with smiles.”

“Nice.” 

They both turned to look up at the camera, raised just slightly above and to the side so Legolas could get the reds and golds of the foliage in the back, and all of his best angles. Tilda’s face was split in a wide grin, all two and a half gaps in her smile on full display. Legolas threw some caution to the win, and smiled with most of his mouth. Not enough to scrunch his cheeks or move his chin, but enough to show off his well-insured smile and crinkle his eyes. He was happy, and he wanted to share it, just like Tilda.

He snapped the pic, and let Tilda pick a filter and some stickers. He didn’t put it on his story, but he saved it to his camera roll and sent it to Tauriel, Aragorn, Father, Bard, and, after a lot of hesitation, Gimli. He had found Gimli on Snapchat in his recommended section just this morning, and before he could think twice, had added him. And then closed the app. And put his phone on Do Not Disturb. An hour later, after he saw the request had been accepted, he allowed himself to relax. 

Tilda had flounced off again down the path, and Legolas fell into step next to Bain. It was fairly awkward, so Legolas decided to try and start a conversation.

Because, y’know, why not just add fuel to a quietly burning inferno shitstorm?

“So, Bain, how’s school?”

Bain glared. “Which one of them put you up to asking that?”

“What-no-I-,” Legolas spluttered. “No one put me up to anything, I was just asking.”

“It’s fine.”

“Do you like environmental science?”

Bain shrugged, but kept his frustrated glance ahead. “Not really. I don’t know. School is stupid. I hate most of it. But I guess environmental isn’t awful.”

“Still thinking of volunteering with you dad on weekends?”

He shrugged again. “Dunno. Maybe. Not old enough yet.”

Legolas opened his mouth, ready to ask another tooth-pullingly lame question, but he was stopped by the sight ahead. Tilda had frozen in the path, staring ahead as well. Even Bain straightened up from his slouch. 

The path was cordoned off by strings of police tape, and concrete filled safety cones. There were bulldozers and cranes and dump trucks parked along the gateway just outside the park, and tents were set up on the sprawling green in front of them, where the forested path became a field. Legolas could remember coming to this very lawn to play soccer with Tauriel when they were not much older than Tilda, with their au pair. They’d wanted to try out for the school team, but Father said no. 

Piles of construction equipment dotted the lane, and where the tents had been erected, the grass was already beginning to wilt. And not fade in that pretty pale autumn way, but melt away as though acid had been sprinkled over the ground. Large signs that read “MEN AT WORK” and “CONSTRUCTION ZONE” and “KEEP AWAY” were hammered into the ground, and the stray tree here and there. Flood lights had been set up. 

The bushes that had once bore roses, the patches of lilies and bushels of lilacs, had all been dug up, and were now sitting in a discarded heap, shrinking and dying. The air was not clean here; it was heavy and thick with burning fuel, dust, smoke and smog. It was dirty. 

“Legolas,” Tilda’s voice sounded so very young to him, and confused. “What are they doing?”

“Can-can they do that?” Even Bain, typically so aloof, was concerned. “That can’t be legal. This is Central Park!”

Legolas sneered. “Anything is legal if you can buy your way through the law. It looks like they’re going to be building something. Turning this into a building or a parking lot or whatever they want to do with it.”

Bain turned to him, shocked. “Why? Who let this happen? What-,” he paused, and then pulled out his phone, and turned back to take pictures of the sight before them from different angles and distances. “I know what I want to do my project on.”

Legolas stared. “Bain, that’s going to be very difficult,” he tried to let on that he had no idea what was going on, while still having some idea what was going on. Father made this look easy. “They haven’t even begun construction. There won’t be any articles or sources, just your pictures.”

The young boy turned and glared at him. “Then I’ll come here every day and interview the workers, or stage protests myself. I’ll work really hard, not that you would ever know anything about that, would you?”

Tilda gasped, as Legolas felt a sneer curl his lip. “Bain! That isn’t nice to say. Da said you have to try to be nice.”

Legolas cut in. “It’s fine, Tilda. Let Bain think what he wants.”

Bain rolled his eyes, and began stalking back the way they came. Tilda and Legolas stood there in silence. After a moment, Legolas also pulled out his phone and began taking pictures. And idea, a feeling, was forming in his head and in his heart, as he mulled over what Bain had said. 

What Bain had meant by his words.

How Gimli had looked at him when they first met; the judgement and lack of confidence in him. 

How he caught Aragorn looking at him sometimes, like he was incapable of comprehending his work.

What all his teachers had said, the report cards with less than stellar reviews of his academic abilities. 

What his own father thought of him, and how he treated him at work; Legolas was given the “easy” assignments, never anything to do with the numbers of the company. Nothing he could permanently mess up.

And while Legolas would like to blame everyone around him, his father and teachers and friends, he knew that he had never given them anything to believe in. After a while of trying and failing in school, he decided he would be exactly what everyone saw. A pretty face. Nothing more and nothing less. And call it what you will, self-defence, and self-fulfilled prophecy, a coping mechanism.

It was his truth.

Or at least, it had been. 

He flicked open the groupchat with Aragorn and Gimli, and sent over the pictures he had snapped. He didn’t wait for anyone to answer.

_ L: We’ll meet in Gimli’s office tomorrow at 2? I’ll bring donuts from The Glaze. _

He closed his phone, determination settling deep in his chest, alongside something else; something warmer, harder, exhilarating. 

He was  _ excited. _

In a way he hadn’t been in a very long time. 

He turned to Tilda, still staring agape at the destruction. He took her smaller hand in his, and again marveled at how young she was. He thought back to her excitement, her enthusiasm in the museum. He could remember being that young, bouncing off the walls with curiosity, devouring any and all information he could get his hands on. And he remembers it fading, right around middle school. 

He wouldn’t let that happen to Tilda. He wouldn’t let her become apathetic, bored with life, uninterested in the changing world around her. 

“Tilda,” he looked down at her. “What was the coolest new thing you learned today?”

Her eyes lit up, and she launched into a conversation about whales and finger bones and fins, gesturing with her arms. And Legolas was happy to listen to every word. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had debated going out for dinner, but Bard had texted and said he was cooking, and they had all hopped on the next train back to Brooklyn. They jumped off at the Park Slope stop, the five of them in good spirits. Bain had gotten over his pout, and was actually having a genuine conversation with Tauriel about being in college. Sigrid and he were chatting about her project and the notes she had taken, while Tilda listened from where she was riding piggyback on Legolas. 

As they came up to the brownstone the Lasgalen-Bowman clan called home, a surprising sight greeted them. 

“Dad!” Tilda shrieked, and all but threw herself from Legolas’ back. Thranduil, who had just stepped out of his town car and was pulling his keys out, spun on his heel toward them. The small, but warm grin that he saved just for his family, and just for private moments with said family, was a sight Legolas hadn’t seen in a little while. Thranduil placed his leather work satchel on the bottom step of the front walkway, and caught Tilda up in a hug as she charged him. She clung to him, grinning, and Legolas was happy for her. He remembered being that young, and how happy he was when Father got home before he and Tauriel were asleep. And judging from the happy and shocked look his sister was giving him, so did she.

Legolas checked his watch and all but gaped. It was only 5:30. He couldn’t remember the last time Father had left work before 8. He looked up, and caught his father’s gaze. He looked pleased, but also slightly cowed, as though he hadn’t realized just how missed he would be, at least by Tilda. 

Tauriel stepped up to Thranduil next. They had always had a slightly less cool relationship than he and their father did, but Tauriel was a warmer person at heart. Passion and emotion came a bit easier to her. Thranduil shifted Tilda to his one hip, and wrapped Tauriel in a hug with his free arm. Despite her impressive height of 6’1”, she came only to Thranduil’s chin. He dropped a small kiss to her red crown.

“I am glad to see you all here,” Thranduil said, stilted and halted though it was. “I hear your father is cooking tonight?”

Sigrid smiled, and as Tauriel stepped back, she stepped forward and gave her step-father a quick hug. It was clumsy, but real, and Legolas was glad to see father’s eyes widen in surprise and then soften just a bit. Sigrid stepped back, beaming nervously. “Is that what brought you home so early?”

Thranduil raised a thick and enigmatic eyebrow. “That and other reasons. I figured it was just a good night to be home.” He leaned down to pick up his briefcase, before realizing that with his arms full of a nine year old with no mind of letting go he had no way to open the door. Luckily, his better half was there to save the day, per usual.

The front door swung open to reveal Bard, sporting a grey apron with tiny hand prints stamped all over it in paint. “If you’re all done hugging it out on the sidewalk like this is Full House, dinner is ready.”

Legolas laughed as Sigrid and Bain whooped and charged up the front steps, sparing their dad a brief “hello!” as they ran past. Bard rolled his eyes as Thranduil approached, still holding Tilda and with his oldest children trailing behind. “You come home and it’s like you’ve returned from war, I slave over a stove all day and I get treated like living room furniture.”

Thranduil smirked. “I hope they treat the living room furniture better than that, it’s a custom set.”

Bard swatted him with his apron strings, but his eyes danced. They leaned in and shared a brief kiss before Thranduil continued into the house. He turned to Legolas and Tauriel, and wrapped the former in a strong hug. 

Bard leaned in to murmur in his ear. “Legolas, I don’t know what you said to him last night, but thank you. He stayed in this morning ‘til 10, and I can’t remember the last time he was home this early.”

Legolas leaned back. “I only said what I thought he needed to hear. I didn’t even really say much, I just kind of sassed him and ran.”

Tauriel laughed and Bard hugged her next. As he pulled back he looked at them both warmly. “It’s always so good to see you two. Now go, wash up and help them set the dining room table. Wine?”

They both nodded gratefully, and soon found themselves sitting in the warmly lit dining room. Legolas sat between Tilda and Bain, while Tauriel and Sigrid sat across from them, their dads at the head of the table. Everyone was busy eating when Bard asked,

“So, how was the museum.”

Bain groaned. “Dusty.”

“No!” Tilda piped up, then considered. “Well, yes. But Da! There were so many things!” 

Legolas nodded. “It was actually pretty cool. We didn’t see the planetarium, though, how was it?” He looked across at Tauriel and Sigrid.

And so it went, Tilda and Sigrid telling everyone what they’d learned, Sigrid pausing often to try and explain what she was studying, Tauriel helping here and there. Eventually there was a lull, and Legolas decided to throw out,

“We swung by Central Park, too, and Bain might have found a topic for his environmental project thing.”

Bain nodded. “Yeah, it looks like they’re gonna try to build over the park, or part of it. Which really doesn’t seem legal, but whatever. So, I’m gonna try to write about that.”

Bard looked at his son. “Really? That seems incredibly ambitious, Bain, make sure you’re not in over your head.”

Before he could think, Legolas opened his mouth. “He can do it. Besides, I’ll help him where I can.”

The dinner noise ground to a stop, and Legolas realized what he had said. And, considering that he hadn’t told anyone about anything he was planning on doing, not even Aragorn yet, it sounded like he had just offered to help Bain re-thatch a roof in their spare time. He scrambled to recover as he felt everyone’s eyes on him

“Um, that is, I can always ask Aragorn for info and tips and ideas. Maybe get Bain an interview to boost his grade. I’m sure whatever is going on, Aragorn’s involved. This is right up his, y’know, ally.” Legolas’ hand floated through a vaguely dismissive gesture.

Bain stared at him. “You’d really do that? For my middle school current event report?”

Legolas shrugged. “Well, yeah why wouldn’t I?” A he shoveled a spoonful of gnocchi into his mouth before any more shite could pour out of it unchecked. He glanced at Tauriel, and saw he torn between intense curiosity and immense amusement at his expense. “What?”

Tauriel shrugged. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Something, something.”

“It’s nothing!”

“Then stop looking at me.”

“Not my fault you have a weird looking face, I can’t help but gawk at it.”

“I taped a mirror to it this morning just for you-”

“Children!” Thranduil cut it, his eyebrows drawn down in a severely unimpressed yet vaguely amused. “Really?”

Tauriel stuck her tongue out at him, but Legolas sniffed and went back to his dinner. He could see Bard and Sigrid shaking with laughter in his peripheral. He decided to have a little more fun at his sister’s expense.

“So, Tauriel, how’s classes?” Legolas was the picture of curious innocence.

Tauriel, however, was now the picture of cautious defense. “Fine. I have a paper to submit for my gen ed requirement tonight, but I finished it earlier this week.”

Thranduil nodded his approval. “And the professor was fine with you missing those first few weeks, yes?”

“Yep. It’s all been smooth sailing.”

Legolas hummed thoughtfully. “Made any new friends this semester, Taur?”

Her eyes cut to him. “Not really. Why?”

Legolas shrugged. “Just curious. You seemed to be texting all day, and your phone is out now, which is odd, because Bard says there’s no phones allowed at dinner.”

Bard smirked. “‘Fraid so, Tauriel. Away with it, now.”

The heat of Tauriel’s glare could have melted the sun, Legolas would wager. Her knuckles were white around her fork as she shoved her phone back in her pocket. Bard, Sigrid, and Bain were glancing between them with varying levels of amusement, while Thranduil just looked tired. Tilda was eating happily, either unaware of or ignoring the tension. 

Thranduil cut a glance to his eldest daughter. “Tauriel, I’m sure whoever it is can wait until after you’ve finished eating.”

Tauriel ground her teeth together. “There’s no one-”

Sigrid smirked a bit, and decided to risk Tauriel’s wrath. “Really? Because it looked like you had 8 unopened texts from Kili.”

Bard and Thranduil shared a look of exasperation and curiosity before Bard spoke up. “That’s quite enough now, all of you. Whatever Tauriel does in her free time is her business and hers alone.”

Bain snorted under his breath. “More like whoever.”

Legolas and Bard both turned to reprimand him, but it was Sigrid who kicked her brother’s shin under the table. He quieted, and muttered an apology to Tauriel. 

Thranduil surveyed the table with a baleful glare, which landed firmly on Legolas. He ducked his head. “Legolas, I’ll speak with you after dinner in the study.” Legolas felt his face and ears heat with embarrassment as his siblings all chorused “Ooohhhhhh!”. Even Tauriel’s spirits seemed bolstered by his inevitable punishment. 

The rest of dinner passed silently, the tension easing minute by minute. Tilda finished first, and fidgeted in her seat until Tauriel asked her to show her the toy archery set she’d been given for her recently passed birthday. The two bounded up the stairs after discarding their dishes in the sink for Bain to see to. Sigrid turned to Bain.

“Wanna play Smash?”

“I got dishes.”

“I’ll help load the washer if you wanna play after.”

“Dope, let’s get it.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes at him, but the two hauled themselves out of their chairs and collected the remaining dishes. As they disappeared into the kitchen, Thranduil turned to Bard. 

“I’ll be in the study with Legolas for a bit.”

Bard nodded. “Right. I’ll go check on Tilda and Tauriel, see if Tauriel needs any help. I don’t know where Tilly gets all that energy.” He stood, cracking his back as he stretched. He leaned down to drop a kiss on Thranduil’s head as he passed. Legolas watched a secretive but happy smile flit across his father’s face.

He turned to Bard. “Thank you for dinner, Bard. It was amazing as always.”

Bard nodded his thanks and left. They could hear him shouting for Bain to turn down his music -it was that trap stuff - and chuckled. Thranduil rose and gestured for Legolas to follow. He was more than slightly apprehensive, it had been years since he’d been chewed out by his father.

He settled into a tasteful leather armchair in the study, across from his father, who handed him a glass of their shared favorite wine. The fireplace in front of them turned on, casting the book-filled office space in warm light. Legolas glanced about, taking in the oak furniture, sturdy and well made, artisan, knowing his father. The rows upon rows of old tomes lining the far wall, historical fiction and poetry and legalese and such, his father’s favorite’s. He smiled as he saw one row filled with children’s fairytales, and young chapter books. They’d been his and Tauriel’s once, and now he guessed they were Tilda’s. 

Thranduil cleared his throat delicately. “I’m not going to reprimand you, Legolas. You’re only a few years shy of 30, and if you want to bait your sister, then you get to deal with those consequences. You know her temper.”

Legolas nodded heavily. “Yes, I do. And it’s not like I tease her often.”

Thranduil snorted. “Anymore.”

“Well, yeah.”

They lapsed into silence. Legolas glanced at his father, and saw his eyes were far away. Reminiscing maybe, though that seemed very unlike him. His father lived in the present, and the future. He never looked back. Which brought something else to mind. 

“Father,” Legolas started. “Why did you stop going to Gandalf’s?”

His father’s head snapped to him to fast that Legolas jumped. His voice was chilled. “How do you know that name? That place? That man?”

Legolas fiddled with his sleeve. “Um, I- I was in there the, um, the other night. A friend- well, kind of- took me.”

“What friend is this? Why there?”

“He’s really Aragorn’s friend. Gimli. Gimli Durinson. I saw him at a club and we, uh-,” Legolas cut himself off, really not wanting to say too much here. “We decided to grab a nightcap, he said he knew a place, and took me. It was cozy. Quaint. But the man-”

“Gandalf.” Thranduil hissed. 

“Yeah, him. He knew I was your son just by looking at me. He asked after you. Said you used to come there as an undergrad.”

Thranduil cast his gaze back to the fire. He was silent for a long moment, his jaw working. “Yes, I did. Often. After I completed my degree I didn’t go back. I had no reason to. There was no more time to study, to puzzle, to sit by fires.”

Legolas bit his tongue, smartly, for once, to refrain from stating the obvious as was his wont to do. His father continued, softly.    
  


“And, well. After a time. It was simply too painful.”

Legolas blinked. “Father?”

Thranduil heaved a sigh. “I met your mother, there, Legolas.”

Legolas blinked. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.” A smile seemed to tug at his father. “It was a long time ago, now, and I have healed. But some places, some things, will always just be too near the heart.”

Legolas nodded. “And Gandalf?”

Thranduil waved a hand. “I never liked that man. He’s a pushy old codger who knows too much for his own good, and never leaves well enough alone. You’d do well to stay away from him, or at least to keep your mouth shut when he’s near.”

Legolas nodded, and decided to change topics before his father worked himself into one of his famous moods. “How have things been here? The kids seem happy. Bard looks well,” he paused, and decided to press his luck. “You seem to be happy, too, Father.”

Thranduil smiled wanly. “I am. Truly I am.” 

Legolas shifted forward. “I am sensing a ‘but’.”

Thranduil glanced at his son. “There’s an obvious joke in there somewhere.”

“Father!”

He chuckled to himself. “Peace, Legolas. Yes, I am happy, but I am also worried.”

“Is it Bain?”

Thranduil nodded stiffly. “He dislikes me. Immensely. And I don’t know how to remedy that.”

Legolas sighed. “I wish I had suggestions, but I’m in the same boat as you. Have you spoken to Bard?”   
  


“Yes, I have. Somewhat. It pains him to see such a rift between us, and I fear it will cause issues between between me and my beloved,” he closed his eyes. “I do not wish to cause my husband such grief. I do not want to burden him with this. I do not know what to do to try and help this, but I cannot dump all of this on Bard.”

Legolas nodded. “Bard is strong, Father. He has a big heart, and a capacity for love and understanding that I don’t know if I’ve seen before,” he pushed away the image of Gimli that flashed into his mind. “But I fear that there is nothing he can do here. This is between you and Bain, I fear. Have you tried broaching the topic directly? Speaking to him as the adult he wants to be treated as?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No. I don’t think I can. He does not respect me enough to even do that, and I find he gets under my skin too easily.”

Legolas snorted. “Father, he’s 13.”

“Yes, thank you, I am aware.”

He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Father. You have to try to hold your temper. He’s a child. He needs guidance. To be shown by example and strength. You let him win by letting him think as he does. You and Bard need to speak with him, to help him understand.”

Thranduil was gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Legolas sighed and drained his glass. He made to stand, knowing that this was as far as the conversation was going to go this night. To his surprise, his father’s hand shot out to grasp at him. 

“Legolas,” he started, stopped, and squeezed his son’s hand. “Thank you. I don’t know where all of this is coming from, with you, but you’re changing. In very good ways. Ways that I always wanted to help you with, but could never find the strength to. I am sorry, my little leaf.”

Legolas blinked, and told himself that the smoke from the near fire was causing the sting in his eyes. “Thank you, Father,” he gripped him back. “But do not discount yourself from my regard. You know I love you, and have always looked up to you. And you know the rest of this family does too. Even Bain. You will find the way to his heart.”

Thranduil stood, and hesitating only a moment, wrapped Legolas in a hug. Legolas hugged him back carefully. “Thank you, Legolas. For saying what needs to be said, even when I would rather not hear it. And for standing by me, through all my moods. You are a gift, my son.”

Legolas pondered briefly just how much his father had had to drink that night, before responding. “You can be mercurial, Father. But I am grateful to have you.” He heard his father huff a laugh before drawing back. He ran the backs of his long, cold fingers down the sides of Legolas’ face, an odd gesture he’d always done that both and and Tauriel now found comforting. 

Legolas smiled. “You know, one way to start progress is to stop hiding yourself away from them. Come, let’s go see what everyone is up to. I’m sure Bard misses you when your at the office.”

Thranduil nodded, and followed Legolas out of the office and down the stairs to the living room. Tauriel, Bain, and Sigrid were locked in a game of Mariokart, sprawled across the floor, while Bard sat with Tilda on one of the couch cushions, looking over her notes. Legolas plopped down on the large sectional, and stretched his long legs out to rest his feet on Sigrid’s back. She swatted at him, but didn’t tear her focus from the game. She was in first. 

Legolas pulled out his phone to snap a picture of the three playing, and busied himself with setting up an instagram post of the pics he took that day. Most were of the museum or the park, but he slid in the one he just took, the one of him and Tilda at the park, and a selfie he had taken with Tauriel and Sigrid by the hanging whale. He had none of Bain, and he felt a flash of guilt. He could stand to try more with the kid, too. 

He posted it, and turned off his instagram notifications as the likes and comments began flooding in. He was therefore surprised when his phone buzzed. He opened his notifications, and felt his stomach flip when he saw Gimli had texted. 

_ G: Hey, I just saw your post. Remind Tauriel to turn her paper in on time. And that 11th place is inexcusable.  _

Legolas bit his lip to fight a grin. 

_ L: Yes, sir, professor. What’s your office number, btw, for tomorrow? _

_ G: 379 in Havemeyer on the Main Campus. Aragorn knows where, I think. I’ll meet you in there, hopefully on time. Giving my cousin a tour of campus before.  _

_ L: oh cool. Have fun!  _

_ G: Thanks, m8. _

Legolas worried his lip. He had entirely forgotten about tomorrow in all the rush of today. He had to figure out what to where, to meet with Aragorn, and, most importantly, what to say. He wanted to help. He knew that now. He glanced over at his father, seated next to Bard and Tilda, the young girl dozing against his side. He knew his father would throw a fit, but he knew he needed to do this. He heaved a sigh, aware and apprehensive of just how difficult he was about to make his own life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up; we get back to Gimli! And we meet Frodo! And the plot moves even more!


	7. Making Plans (and holding hands)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo is given a tour, plans are made, and Gimli begins to realize not all is as it seems to be between him and certain model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost on time. Yay. Sorry for the delay, again, finals are happening and I wanna fake my death. Enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write. I see Aragorn as like a jaded but mindful mother, who really just wants to be a little buzzed always. This chapter is unbeta-d, so I apologize for any and all mistakes.

“And that concludes the tour of the main campus!” 

“Wow. Just...wow.”

Gimli and Frodo had spent the morning traipsing leisurely around the main Morningside Campus of Columbia University. After Gimli had collected him from Thorin and Bilbo’s apartment in Greenwich, they’d wandered through buildings, classrooms, courtyards, and quads. A couple of freshmen from his intro class had even taken them up to the dorms. Frodo was slated to be joining an official campus tour that afternoon, where he’d get brochures and pamphlets and all that fun literature stuff, but he’d been more happy that Gimli had shown him the ins and outs of what campus was really like. 

“Now, laddie, if you want to study the natural sciences, I know Bilbo mentioned those this morning, the Observatory is way off campus, in the Palisades. So, you’ll be doing a bit o’ travelling with that. But for your first couple of years, no matter what you do, you’ll be on this campus. If, that is, you want to go here. Any school will be lucky to have you, Frodo, so no pressure at all.”

Frodo beamed at him. “Thank you, Gimli. For all of this. It was very kind of you to take time out of your weekend for me.”

Gimli waved his hand dismissively. “Bah! Think nothing of it, lad. You’re family, and that’s what family does. ‘Sides, I had to be here anyway. Got meetings and such. Boring shite, y’know.”

Frodo laughed. “Aye.” 

They continued on their way back to Gimli’s office, chatting about Frodo’s plans to meet up with his friends Sam, Pippin, and Merry at Gandalf’s. From what Frodo was telling him, they were a lively bunch. He couldn’t help but think of Fili and Kili and Ori, and all the mischief they got up to when they were just about Frodo’s age. 

“Hey! Dr. Dork!”

Gimli and Frodo spun around, and Gimli smiled to see Aragorn and Legolas trotting toward them. Aragorn was elbowing Legolas for his less than polite greeting, but Legolas was grinning. He had a beautiful smile, Gimli thought idly. 

“Gimli!” Aragorn clasped him in a bracing hug, thumping his shoulders. “Glad we caught you. I couldn’t recall where your office was exactly. Just the number.”

Legolas’s sunglasses had drifted down his nose as he texted away, so Gimli could see the fond eyeroll that overtook him. His gaze landed on Frodo and he straightened. Per usual, he was dressed to the nines. A faux leather jacket with roses sewn into it at the elbows and vines trailing down the zipper line, over a silk cream button down with black mesh patches about the shoulders, jeans that were tight enough to cut off blood flow, and knee-high riding boots. His hair draped over his shoulder in a messy fishtail braid. Gimli had to tear his eyes away from him, already nervous that he’d been staring too long.

He cleared his throat. “Aragorn, Legolas, this is my cousin, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, these are my friends Aragorn Elessar and Legolas Lasgalyn.”

Frodo’s eyes were wide. “Um, hi. I’m a big fan! Of both of you. Which you probably both hear a lot,” he turned to Aragorn. “Your environmental work is so amazing, sir, and important! My friends and I watched your UN speech. It was inspiring.” He turned to Legolas next. “And I did a report on animal cruelty-free testing in different industries, and I used your tweets and posts and videos in my presentation. I got an A.” He stopped, blushing a bit.

Legolas smiled. “Thank you, Frodo, for your kind words. It’s people like you we’re always trying to reach.”

Aragorn nodded. “Words only go so far, y’know. It’s the actions the words inspire that really make a difference. And, please, drop the sir, Frodo. Any family of Gimli’s is friend to me.”

Frodo was beaming, but Gimli was a bit thrown. Yes, he’d known vaguely that both of his friends were pseudo-celebrities. But Aragorn was still same old Aragorn, the man he’d been grabbing a pint with on Sunday since he was 18, and who watched the same rugby team he did. Legolas was, well, more of an enigma. And a bit harder to ignore. Still, when he posted his videos or sent out tweets, they always seemed so humble and direct that Gimli forgot they were reaching millions, not just him. He shook his head a bit. 

“Frodo,” he turned to his cousin. “We’re heading to my office now. Would you like to come with or are you going to meet Sam, Pip, and Merry?”

“I’ll head out and meet them now. Maybe if I’m early, Gandalf will let me help with the coffee.”

Gimli smiled. “There’s a good lad. Be well, and off, and text me and your uncles the moment you arrive.”

Frodo rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly. “Yes, yes, I know. Goodness you’re as bad as Thorin sometimes.” He leaned in and hugged Gimli. Frodo was one of the only people shorter than him, but Gimli had a feeling the boy would hit one last growth spurt. He tugged him close for a moment, thumping his back, before pulling away. 

“Off ya go now, right then.” Gimli nodded at him. Frodo smiled, bid a starry-eyed farewell to his cousin’s friends, and trotted off in the direction of the main gate and the A train. Gimli turned back to his friends.

“Shall we?”

Aragorn nodded. “Lead on.”

Legolas yawned. “Is there anywhere to get a cup of coffee around here? I missed my morning one.”

Gimli nodded. “Aye, I’ve got a machine in my office.”

Aragorn snorted. “Leg, I’ll never understand how you only drink one cup a day.”

“If I drink more than that, I start vibrating. Like, uncontrollably. It’s very hard to take selfies when one’s atoms are trying to shake apart.”

Gimli stared. “One cup? Tha’s it?”

Legolas shrugged. “I stick with green tea. Or any tea, really, but green tea is my favorite. Or latte’s, but I take them blonde.”

Aragorn was rolling his eyes bemusedly. “I do not know how you live like you do, Leg. I really don’t. I could never eat and drink what you do. Or rather, not eat and drink what you don’t.”

Gimli frowned, but they’d reached his building and he turned to swipe them in. Conversation paused, the silence of the entrance atrium pressing in around them. Their footsteps echoed across the tiles all the way to the elevator, which they took up to the 7th floor. Gimli led them around a corner, and to his office. He unlocked the door and let them in. One wall was entirely glass- a window looking in toward the city. The view wasn’t bad, there were no immediate skyscrapers blocking the scenery, but Gimli had never much cared for heights of views. The remaining two walls were dominated by bookshelves filled with literature on architecture and dotted with baubles and knick knacks and gifts and such. 

He turned on the coffee pot as he passed it, and plopped into the chair behind his desk. Aragorn took the armchair off to the side, and Legolas sat in the on across the desk, where students usually sat, kicking his feet onto the desk. Gimli scowled at him, and Legolas winked, discarding his sunglasses on the desk. 

“So, erm, do you have allergies?” Gimli continued their conversation from outside, and Legolas was bewildered for a moment before blinking and laughing. 

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” he smiled vaguely, staring at the glass globe on Gimli’s desk- a gift from Thorin. He touched it gently, reverently. “It’s just that being a model comes with restrictions. There are certain things I can’t eat ever, certain things I can’t eat before a shoot, certain things I should eat and drink and so on and so forth. I try to keep it natural, too, which is even more restrictive.”

Gimli blinked. “Natural?”

Aragorn cleared his throat. “From what Arwen tells me, there are a lot of models who use drugs and certain, erm, eating habits, to keep a figure.”

Legolas nodded sadly. “It’s a rough field. I’ve never held enough love for it to go that far, but then again, I am luckier than some. I’m not only a model- I do not cling to it.”

Gimli recalled Legolas saying he was beginning to take on more of the business end of the fashion industry, and had even sketched some designs of his own, though he kept them private. The coffee pot dinged, and Gimli grabbed them three mugs from the shelf by the pot and poured them all a cup. Once they were settled, Aragorn pulled a small stack of files from out of a briefcase. 

“Now then, gentlemen. Let’s begin.”

Gimli cleared off the papers and drafting supplies from his desk, shuffling them into their designated drawers. Aragorn stood next to him, and started pulling graphs and literature and glossy, 8x12 photos that he’d had recently printed. Legolas gently moved his name plate and the metallic sculpture of the Chrysler building to a bookshelf, and then perched on the lip of the desk. He crossed his long legs at the knee, pointed toward the door, then twisted like a pretzel to face them. He sipped at his coffee, eyes flicking over the photos. 

Gimli had to give it to Legolas, he certainly knew how to paint himself as a pretty, alluring picture. 

Legolas’ eyes flicked up to his, catching his stare, and before Gimli could look away, he smiled shyly at the professor. Gimli smiled back, tentatively. They hadn’t seen each other since the Gandalf’s but there was no denying that they’d had fun. A lot of fun. More fun than Gimli had had on any recent date.

And he got the feeling that neither of them knew what to do about it.

He pushed the thought away for the time being. They had work to do. And Legolas still had to commit to this. Aye, the lad was cute and funny, but Gimli knew he could be flippant and shallow, too, if he wanted to be. It was time to see where his heart lay.

Aragorn, evidently, shared this thought. “Legolas, before we press on, are you in or out?” It was blunt, no need for them all to bandy words. 

Legolas ran a hand through his hair. “Aragorn, you know the pressure I’m under. Gimli, you don’t, and that’s fine. It doesn’t matter,” he met both of their gazes. “Even though this is going to royally piss off my father, and potentially even get me disowned if this goes poorly, I am in.”

Aragorn beamed, and rounded the desk to grab Legolas in a bracing hug. It nearly bowled the willowy man down, but he returned it happily, grinning something fierce. Huh- that was odd, Gimli thought idly. There was a spark there, in Legolas’ grin, that hinted at passion and excitement that he’d had yet to see from him. 

It was contagious. 

Gimli cheered and thumped his desk a couple times, chuckling as Aragorn released the blond. Legolas was blushing, and swatted at Aragorn. 

“Alright, alright, geez, you’re acting like I just agreed to give you an organ, calm down.”

Aragorn was still beaming as he came back to the end of the desk. Legolas settled back, smiling, and glanced at Gimli. 

“Good on ye, laddie. We’ll need yer help.”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “You literally don’t even know what I’m going to be doing, Gimli.”

He shrugged. “No, but I’m sure it’ll be important.”

Legolas flushed, but looked pleased. That made sense, Gimli had fairly changed his tune from the last time they discussed this.

Aragorn cleared his throat. “So, what I want to talk to you two about is a game plan. I’m gonna lay the situation on you, and then we’ll talk about you two.”

They nodded. Legolas sipped his coffee, and Gimli finished his. He poured himself another.

Aragorn continued. “So, from what Legolas has seen, Easterlings has already started preparations to mow down that corner of Central Park the government gave them. I did some digging, and technically they aren’t zoned to do that yet. They aren’t supposed to begin any preparations until after the holidays. Arwen’s already contacted some lawyers her family knows, and they’re going to see what they can do about that. In the meantime, I have a few plans.”

Legolas hummed. “Oh good, those always work out.”

Aragorn pressed on as if he hadn’t heard Legolas. “Gimli, I want you to come up with some drafts for something ambitious I wanna do,” Gimli nodded, intrigued. “You’re family did some of the work restoring and rebuilding the High Line, yeah? I wanna get something going like that down by the Hudson, and in some of the less tourist-y areas. The residential areas.”

Gimli nodded, reaching into his desk and pulling out a sketch pad and some measuring tools. “What kind of thing? I cannae build another High Line on my own with only a few students, but I may be able to draft and design some green islands.”

Legolas cleared his throat, drawing the other two’s attention. “Sorry, but I really don’t understand what you guys are talking about. And I can’t, as Aragorn phrased it, ‘PR the shit out of’ stuff I can’t even explain.”

Gimli winced. “Sorry, lad. Here, let me explain,” he turned the sketch pad toward Legolas, and his large hands began flying deftly and purposefully across the page. “A green island is like a green roof, but on the ground. It’s designed to encourage the mingling of urbanism and natural growth, and reduce heat island impacts, and promote cleaner air quality. So, instead of plain concrete dividers in the middle of the street, or empty asphalt lots, or concrete, sparse, alleyways, plants and grass and native species and put into the old area, and with careful design, the old and new make a totally unique ecosystem.”

Aragorn nodded, impressed. “I couldn’t have explained that better myself, Gimli.”

“Aye, cuz yeh’d still be talkin’, laddie.”

Legolas was fascinated, and he traced the now-complete sketch with curious reverence. Gimli swallowed, watching those nimble fingers trail across the paths his pencil had made, and flicked his gaze up to Legolas’ forehead before his thoughts ran away with him. “That’s amazing,” the blond breathed. He looked excitedly to Aragorn, then him. “Do these work? Where are they? Can we see one?”

Aragorn sighed, scratching the scruff on his jaw. “Well, unfortunately, no.”

Gimli snorted, eyeing Aragorn. “Yeah, you see, Legolas, green islands are mainly theory at this point. Green roofs are slightly more common-”

“I want drafts for those, too, by the way, for my office building.”

Gimli sighed. “-slightly more common, and the only natural-urban ecosystem is the High Line, and that barely counts, sadly. They just don’t exist yet”

Legolas regarded him curiously. “But you are a building designer, you make things that didn’t exist before exist now. So,” he flipped his sketch pad back toward him. “Make them exist.”

Aragorn smiled as Gimli sputtered. “I can’t just make them exist-”

Legolas flipped his hair. “Why not?”

“I-”

“It’s never been done before, lad! I would need to research, to build a team, to draft over and over to perfect-”

“Haven’t you done that before? To get your fancy-ass degrees?”

“Aye-”

“So do it again,” Legolas shrugged. “We’re your team. And you have your family. And colleagues, I guess. And the students you’ll recruit to work on it. So, bam. Team. And researching is easy, just ask Aragorn. He like, does this all the time. He’s got books and articles I bet. And you said yourself that this semester is slow and you’ve been bored, so now’s the perfect time to hole up at Gandalf’s and draft. Ta-dah! Battle plan for Gimli.”

Legolas took a glib sip of his coffee, and met Aragorn and Gimli’s astounded stares. “What? I’ve been helping Galion keep Father organized for years. This is nothing.”

Aragorn turned to Gimli. “While I am insanely curious as to how Legolas knows so much about your semester and attention span, since I thought this was about your second time meeting, we’ll table that for later,” both Legolas and Gimli flushed. “Gimli, does that sound good to you? It’s your call, ultimately, of course, but I think you’re more than capable. I saw your thesis and dissertation, this should be nothing.”

Gimli fidgeted with the pencil for a moment before he leaned back and sighed. “I will make no promises, Aragorn. But I will do my absolute best to try. This could take years, you realize, yes?”

Aragorn shrugged. “I was kind of counting on it,” He turned to Legolas next. “You.”

“Me.”

“I have way less clear instructions for you.”

“Wonderful.”

“But generally, I want you to spread the word hard and fast- stop smirking, you absolute toddler- about what we’re doing. Selfies at construction sites with fun facts about deforestation and greenhouse gas in the captions. Tag me and Columbia University whenever you can. When Gimli gets a research team together, I want you with them snapping pics and tweeting and doing everything you can. Even little things. When you’re taking pics of new fabrics for shoots, or new cleansers, talk about sustainable fabric and dyes, anything you possibly can to start bringing attention. Hell, get a membership to the Museum and go to their galas.”

Legolas perked up at that. “Oh, Tilda would love that I am absolutely doing that,” He yanked out his phone and began making lists of notes and to-dos. He paused after a minute. “This is a long-shot, and probably not going to happen, but since we’re all taking nonsense this morning, what about a fashion show? To raise awareness and funds, which we can then donate to environmental causes.”

Aragorn stared. “That would be brilliant, Leg. But how?”

Legolas sucked on his teeth, and Gimli almost smirked at how unattractive a movement it was. “I have no idea. If you want it to be legit, you’ll need to get either my father or Arwen’s on board. Or her grandmother, maybe.”

Gimli shifted. “Can you get your father on board.”

Legolas shrugged. “I can try. I’ve had a few ideas for some photo-shoots for the cause, but if I could get him to help me pull together a fashion show, runway and all, it’d be big. And if we could merge it with Elrond’s company, in the interest of altruism, it would make headlines.”

Aragorn was nodding fervently. “Legolas, do your best to make that happen. And get creative with everything else.” Before he could continue, the melodic tones of ‘Primadonna Girl’ floated into the room, and Aragorn smiled to himself. “Sorry, that’s Arwen, hang on.”

As he left the room to take the call, Legolas turned his attention back to Gimli’s sketch. “You’re a talented artist, Gimli.”

He shrugged. “Nae, not really, I just draw a lot of straight lines all day.”

Legolas snickered. “Something something straight lines gay joke something.” 

Gimli laughed, and turned his own attention to Legolas. “So, not to pry, but why would doing this get you disowned? Does your dad not believe in climate change or something?”

Legolas sighed. “No, he does, he’s actually a huge proponent of climate activism, but privately so. In the fashion industry, or any, like, fame industry where the spotlight is on anything you say or do, you have to be careful. Especially when you’re only the spokesperson, or the face, of a company that isn’t really yours.”

Gimli really hoped his face was adequately expressing how lost he was. Legolas ran his hands through his hair, frustrated.

“Ugh, I am no good with words and I never will be. So, it’s like, my father is the head of Oscar de le Renta here in the city. However, he himself is not of the de la Renta family, or anything like that. He’s just a prominent designer and businessman who they hired to take care of this region. So, for him to act in any way, or say anything that would reflect negatively on the company, would be bad. Fashion companies don’t like to have opinions, because opinions push away customers. So, if I put my face out there, and start making all this noise, while still working for the company-”

“You could lose your job.” Gimli finished. 

“And, because it’s well known who’s son I am, my father may have to publicly renounce me as well as fire me himself to distance him and the rest of my family and the company from the waves.”

“Shit.”

Legolas laughed, but it was high and thin, nothing like the real laughter Gimli had pulled from him at Gandalf’s. “Shit indeed.”

Gimli played with a protractor he had lying around. “So, then, if I could also ask, why are you doing this?”

Legolas sighed, and tried to compose himself. He spoke quietly, and played with his fingers as he fidgeted. “Because all I’ve ever been is what other people see me as. I’ve always been the dumb blond with a pretty face, too rich and above it all to have to care. And I don’t want to be that anymore. I like modelling, but I know I’ll be past my prime for it soon in the eyes of the industry anyway. I like working with my father, but it’s all I’ve ever done. When I went to museum with my little sister, she had so much passion, for learning. And my little brother, when he saw the construction site, had so much fire for the injustice. I want to have those things too. I want to learn to care about something other than myself.”

Gimli found himself speechless, and began to take in the man in front of him in a different light. There was passion and fire there, buried under careful layers of ice and disdain. Masks that Legolas had carefully placed on for reasons that Gimli found he wanted to know. Masks that Gimli wanted to pull off one by one, and find the treasure buried in the deep. 

Oh shit, indeed. 

Gimli found his voice, and carefully, reached across the desk and pulled one of Legolas’ hands free from his tangled web of anxious fidgeting. He held it carefully, without intent, but not without feeling. Legolas’ eyes met his, and Gimli saddened to see a few tears collected along his lashes. 

“I haven’t known you for very long at all, Legolas. But I do know this; for someone who puts on a very good show about not caring for anyone, you care very much. And I think it’s spectacular. Even if you don’t like to express it, or you’ve been taught not to, I see it there. And so does Aragorn, or he never would have asked you to do this.”

Legolas’ eyes had drifted shut, and he sniffled a bit. “I’m sorry, I’m not usually such a mess. This has all been very ugly and drippy of me, and I can feel the stress lines forming already. But I’m glad to be here, and I’m glad to be seen for more than just my face.”

Gimli chuckled and ducked his head. “It’s a pretty face, no doubting it, lad. No shame in that. But there’s a pretty mind in there, too.”

Legolas’ ears had flushed a deep red, and he pulled his hand back to rub his eyes and tuck an errant strand of white gold behind his ear. “Thank you, Gimli,” he murmured, then smiled and winked. “From one ten to another.”

Gimli laughed. “I’m a twelve, but thank yeh kindly.”

Legolas laughed, loud and bright, and the room filled with it. Gimli felt himself compelled to join in, and by the time Aragorn wandered back in, they were both clutching their sides.

“Um, okay, did I miss something?”

Legolas waved a hand. “No, no, nothing important.”

Gimli reined his laughter back in, and nodded his assent. “Aye, lad, no big deal.”

Aragorn’s eyes shifted between them, calculating. “Right, then. Before we leave, I wanna talk about staging a possible rally or protest in Central Park before the Thanksgiving Day Parade, or maybe after, we’ll see. And then, I want to know exactly what you two have been getting up to at Gandalf’s since you last met. Last I checked you two hated each other or something like that.”

Gimli met Legolas’ eyes across the desk, and shared a smile. “Aye, Aragorn. Something like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eye emoji* All aboard for fluff central next time. Also, yes my dialogue for Gimli is varying in consistency with the scottish brogue and I just like to think it varies for him too.


	8. Possibly, Maybe, I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of vignettes taking place over a month or so. Gimli and Legolas finding themselves spending more and more time with one another, and neither are even slightly opposed to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had too much fun with this. Thank you all for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks, and PATIENCE as I struggled through finals. So grateful for all of you.
> 
> Again, this work is inspired by deheerkonijn's fantastic art on tumblr and twitter. Please go drop some likes, retweets, and reblogs! 
> 
> I played with the formatting a bit this time, so if anything looks stupid, my bad.

CHPT 8

And so, as October faded into November, the days grew shorter, the breeze grew colder, and Gimli and Legolas grew ever closer. 

\---

Legolas had taken to getting his work done at Gandalf’s when he could. The biscottis and pastries had him putting in extra miles at the gym, but the company was well worth it. He glanced up, eyes tracing Gimli’s studded eyebrows and thick beard. The professor was slumped in his arm chair, legs propped up on an ottoman, his eyes tracing lazily over the drafting projects his students were turning in throughout the week. His large hands ran over furred upper lip, pulling and pushing as he thought.

Legolas smiled, watching the motions for another moment before interrupting. “Hey, Gim.”

“Hm.”

“Want another cuppa?”

“Mm.”

“Vanilla caramel?”

“Mhm.”

“Be back.”

Gimli grunted in acknowledgement, eyes never leaving his tablet. But they had softened around the edges, his crow’s feet crinkling up. Legolas took a moment to appreciate, and maybe, yet, stare a bit, at the warm brown eyes focused so singularly on his work. And then he tried valiantly not to think about that gaze singularly focused on something else. 

\---

Legolas pushed open the door to Gimli’s office, tray and bag in hand. “You have to get your damn coffee machine fixed. Do I look like I work for GrubHub?”

Gimli stood up to meet up. “Aye thanks, Legolas. Yer an absolute life saver. What’s in the bag?”

“Lunch, duh. It’s 2 o’clock and I haven’t eaten all morning. I got you a burrito.”

Gimli felt his eyebrows climb toward his hairline. “And who said I liked burritos?”

“Everyone like burritos. Just shut up and eat it.”

Gimli chuckled and accepted the foil wrapped lunch. Legolas’ ear tips were flushed red, as they often did when he was caught out doing something nice unprovoked. “Thank you kindly, then.”

“You’re welcome. Get your stupid coffee machine fixed.”

“Aye, lad.” 

Legolas’ eyes roamed his desk, littered with papers and projects. “Is one of these Tauriel’s? Show me so I can draw a dick on the back."

The sun had dipped well below the steel and glass horizon of the city before either of them stopped their laughter and chatter long enough to realize it was late.

\---

Legolas looked up from his sketch of Sigrid’s potential prom dress, and realized blearily that he’d been working steadily for about two hours. He snapped the tablet’s pencil back onto the magnetic strip and stretched his long limbs, satisfied to hear them crack into place. Gandalf’s was lit with a warm, candlelight glow that seemed to radiate from the walls themselves. He put the tablet down and closed his eyes to let them adjust.

His voice was hoarse from disuse. “Gimli? How’s the grant thingy, the proposal, going?”

No answer. He cracked an eye open, wondering if Gimli had a class that evening and had left. 

Nope. 

Gimli was sprawled in the papasan chair across from him, feet dangling a few inches from the ground. He was solidly asleep, just barely snoring. The glasses he wore when he graded on his laptop were crooked on his sturdy nose. His mouth was ever so open in sleep. 

Legolas fumbled for his phone, being as quiet as possible. He had never seen anyone look so cute asleep.

He snapped a few pictures, saving them in the passcode locked folder he kept all his personal pictures in, ones that would never be posted. He put the phone down, content to take in this side of his friend he had never seen before. Well, quasi-friend. Friend he had a hugely distracting crush on. Whatever. 

Gimli shifted, mumbling. A massive hand reached up to scratch his thick beard. It bushed and trailed just slightly below his jawline, but it didn’t trail like Gandalf’s. It was longer than Bard’s though, for certain. Legolas wondered idly what it would be like to trail his hand through those thick, bristly locks. He could see braids woven here and there throughout the mass of hair, and wanted to twine in a few of his own. 

Legolas started, feeling betrayed by his own line of thought. He stood brusquely, grabbing a throw blanket off the couch behind him, and tossed it over Gimli’s sleeping form. He picked up his mug and wove his way to the front of the cafe, grabbing a few books on geometric design and tessellations on his way. Clearly, his mind needed to be occupied with something more productive than beard-induced fantasies.

\---

The pale, cold sun of early November shone through windows onto a bed heaped high with fleece blankets, faux fur throws, and a thick flannel quilt. Gimli rolled over blearily, groping for the phone that had so rudely woken him. He had most of his notifications silenced, life of a teacher, so he was curious to see what had gone through

_ Legsfordays has started a livestream! Click to join in before it ends _

And before Gimli could really think better of it, he clicked. 

And goddamn was he glad he did. Legolas was not actually livestreaming, Tauriel was from his phone, from his personal and private account, not his famous one. And the angle certainly implied she was not supposed to be. Well, the angle and the video itself.

Legolas was dancing around what appeared to be a massive bird cage, broom in hand, wearing high heeled stilettos, thick fleece pajama pants, and nothing else. He was singing loudly, bopping and moving about the cage, shaking his ass here and there, clearly not aware he was being filmed. 

_ “I don’t want no scrub, a scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me, hanging out the passenger side-” _

The camera was shaking with Tauriel’s laughter, and Gimli could see that Aragorn, Arwen, Kili, and someone named Sigrid were watching along with him. The birds in the cage were tiny, and barely visible from the phone, but they seemed fixated on Legolas, bobbing and chirping in response to his singing. 

A few hours later, in lecture, Gimli still had Legolas’ admittedly beautiful voice singing in his mind, ripping his focus from engineering physics over and over, and instead placing it on his minds’ eye view of Legolas’ also admittedly lovely dancing.

\---

Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas were firmly planted around the largest table at Gandalf’s directly next to the massive fireplace that could probably fit Legolas inside of it.

And Legolas was about ready to try it on for size.

“No, Aragorn, I’m telling you this as a fact. Yeh cannae fit that many panels on the roof of that damned building. Not those sizes!”

“Gimli, you’re not listening! I-”

“All I’ve been doin’ all day is listenin’ to ye! All bloody day!”

“Just shut up! Look, what if you were to-”

Legolas rolled his head back and groaned. He fished out his phone, opened his personal and private snapchat, and turned his back to them, taking a selfie of his eyes and forehead with the two of his friends shouting and jabbing fingers at each other in the back. He typed out “All I wanted was a Biscotti” and sent it to Tauriel, Arwen, Arwen’s strangely hip grandmother Galadriel who he now had a 7 day streak with, Kili, Frodo, and Sigrid. As an afterthought, he sent it to Bain too. Baby steps or whatever. And then, he pushed himself to his feet.

“You people are giving me worry lines. I’m getting my damn cookie. And another latte.”

Gimli looked askance at him. “I thought your limit was one a day?”

“If I wanted your input I would have asked, thank you.” He tossed over his shoulder as he sauntered away. By the time he returned, with his large blonde latte in a chipped and hand painted mug, and a complimentary extra biscotti because Gandalf could heard the argument from the storage room, Aragorn had stood up to pace and flick through the designs Gimli had come up with, muttering to himself absently. 

Legolas plopped back down on the ground, scooting close to where Gimli sat in an armchair. He sat with him in quiet as Gimli in turn flicked through Aragorn’s designs, worrying one of his pinky rings. Legolas nudged his knee with his shoulder, and dunked the extra biscotti in his latte before he held it out to Gimli. 

“Here, try this, it’s good.”

Gimli grunted. “No, thanks, lad.”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “Just eat the damn cookie, would you? It’ll make you feel better. It has chocolate, it’s science.”

Gimli huffed, but turned and took a bite of the biscuit that Legolas held out for him. Legolas did his best to focus on sipping his own latte, and not Gimli’s sudden nearness, or the very faint tickle of his beard and mustache on Legolas’ fingers. He hoped the flush creeping up his neck wasn’t visible in the low light. Gimli drew back, chewing thoughtfully. Brown eyes bore into his own for a brief second, and Legolas felt something inside catch fire under the heat of the other man’s gaze, but just like that, it was over.

Gimli brushed a stray crumb out of his beard. “S’good. Thanks.” And he smiled down at Legolas. 

He flicked his hair, doing his best to hide his blush behind his mug. “See? Science.”

\----

_ Hey are you busy? _

Gimli stared at the text, void of emojis and Legolas’ usual abbreviations and drawn out vowels. 

_ No just wrapping up my powerpoint for tomorrow’s lecture. Y? _

Three little dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared.

Disappeared.

This happened on and off for the next two minutes. Gimli was about to restart his phone, worried his service was crapping out, but then it came through.

_ I’m at Gandalf’s if u wanna come finish it here. _

_ Or not _

_ It’s whatever _

Gimli frowned, and was out the door with his laptop bag before he could really stop to think about it. He made it across town to Gandalf’s in record time.

When he walked in, Gandalf pushed a hot chocolate loaded with whipped cream and cinnamon into his hands, and pointed to the overstuffed couch in front of the central fire place. Legolas’s tall blond hair was visibly slumped there, so he made his was over, careful to make more noise than usual. He placed the mug and laptop down on the coffee table, and settled next to Legolas, taking care not to touch or jostle him. Legolas stared unseeing into the flickering hearth, and for a moment Gimli didn’t think he was aware of him. 

Suddenly, Legolas spoke without blinking, or preamble, startling Gimli. “Why am I such an idiot?”

Gimli blinked. “Yer not. Yer a bright lad, Legolas, you know that."

“Then why do I always make the same mistakes?” 

Gimli floundered, lost in the conversation. Legolas took pity on him, and shoved his phone into his hands, still refusing to meet his gaze. Gimli unlocked the phone, the passcode had been disabled for him, and saw that Legolas had left open a private messaging conversation on instagram. Haldir had been messaging him. The dozens of texts were unanswered, something that clearly incensed Haldir.

_ So what were you doing at the Prancing Pony, Las? _

_ Cruising for another bruising, the norm? Looking for your friday fix? _

_ Looking for me? _

_ You obviously weren’t there with the cute little red bear _

_ We both know you only like lean meat_

_ C’mon, Legolas, I can see you reading these _

_ Answer me you little bitch _

_ Too busy with your new toy? I get it. _

_ You guys clearly had something going on. Let me know if he ever needs a third. A cold little thing like you can’t keep beds warm long. _

_ He’ll leave you, you’ll ghost him, whatever. It’ll end. And I’ll be waiting. _

_ You’ll fuck up, you’ll make a mistake. _

_ You’ll lie to him like everyone else. And when he realizes what a nasty vapid slut you are, you’ll be alone. _

_ See you next week at the shoot darling. _

Gimli locked the phone, breathing heavily through his nose. He turned to Legolas, and saw him flick a delicate finger under his red-rimmed eyes. He was now staunchly avoiding Gimli’s gaze, staring into the fire like it was speaking poetry to him. Gimli leaned over and grabbed the hot chocolate. He placed a soft hand on Legolas’ shoulder, and spared a moment to marvel at how slight Legolas felt under his admittedly massive palm. He pushed the drink into Legolas’ hands. 

“I don’t care if it isn’t part of your father-approved diet. Drink. It’s chocolate, so it’s science that it’ll help.”

Legolas’ breath hitched in what might have been a laugh, and he took a sip. Gimli stared at the smudge of whipped cream the cup left behind on his lip and nose, and forced himself to look away as Legolas wiped it off. 

Now was not exactly the time to be thinking about his ever-growing crush on the model. 

He took a breath. “Legolas, that wanker is wrong. About everything. You can’t let his words get to you when he’s the one who’s lyin’.”

Legolas nodded jerkily. “I do know that he’s trying to get to me, I do. I understand. I just- I-,” he gestured vaguely with his empty right hand, clearly searching for the right words. He was blinking furiously, staring at the ceiling, willing away the breaking of a dam that Gimli could see coming from a mile away. He grabbed the flailing hand, holding it carefully between his own. 

“It’s okay to be upset, Legolas. There’s no one to judge you hear.”

Gimli’s heart lurched a little as his friend’s face crumpled ever so slightly, and silent tears began dripping down his cheeks. “I’m tired of making the same mistakes, of not learning from all of my fuck ups. I keep sleeping with these shitty guys, and then letting them walk all over me when I don’t want any more with them. And I keep doing it. Over and over, again and again. And I just-,” he heaved in a breath of air. “When they don’t like me, I don’t like me. And it’s so stupid. I’m so stupid, for putting all my esteem on these little moments. I tell all of these millions of people to love themselves, but every time a fling goes wrong, and they blame me, it all goes out the window.”

Gimli clasped his hand and waited. Legolas took a few more breaths. “I can usually just brush this off. But tonight, my father reminded me of the shoot on my way out, and then casually asked about how Haldir was. I guess he thought we were seeing each other. Maybe that’s how Haldir has been treating it. I don’t know. And even though he didn’t mean anything by it, he didn’t know, it just-.”

He squeezed Gimli’s hand, lost again for words. Gimli was quickly understanding that the more upset or emotional he was, the less able Legolas was to verbally keep up with his own mind. “Hurt? Betrayed, even though it didn’t make sense.”

Legolas nodded emphatically. “Yes! And- and I don’t know. I felt judged by my father, even though he wasn’t judging me for once.

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and Legolas wiped away some straggling tears. He took another sip of cocoa as his shoulders slumped. He continued in a small voice, barely above a whisper, so Gimli leaned in further to hear him. “I know that I should love myself regardless of how much others approve of me or like me. But, sometimes, I just can’t. I need their approval so much it hurts. Especially my fathers. And especially others in the industry, like Haldir. I just want-.”

He cut himself off, and seemed to blush a bit. Gimli waited, but when he wouldn’t press on, he prodded a bit. “What’s that, Legolas?”

“I just want someone to like me. For me. Not because I’m tall and sexy, or vapid and blank, or because I’m related to them. I just want someone to see me, and like what’s already there underneath the runway model.”

Gimli couldn’t have breathed right now if he wanted to. Would coming clean right now be good for Legolas? Or would he think he was lying to validate him. Gimli would never lie, but he didn’t want to fess up to his massively distracting crush just because it would make him feel better. Or did he?

Ah, fuck. He wasn’t a romantic, not like Kili or Thorin. He was just Gimli.

But maybe, that was what Legolas had wanted when he texted him.

He took a deep breath, and began delicately stroking Legolas’ hand with his stout fingers. Now it was his turn to stare into the fire and not meet his companion’s gaze. “Legolas, there are plenty of people who like you because you’re you. Aragorn loves you like a brother, and he’s known you as long as one. He sees what you’ve got buried under all that Korean beauty crap.”

Legolas snorted, but a smile began tugging at his lips. 

“Arwen loves you, you said she asks you over all the time to do yoga, or to go riding together. She likes spending time with you. I know for a fact that your sister loves you very much. And maybe she is related to you, but take it from someone who’s family can be messy, that doesn’t always guarantee acceptance and love.”

Legolas nodded, smiling to himself. “I should call her tonight.”

Gimli chuckled. “Never hurts. ‘Sides she could use the distraction from her term paper,” Legolas giggled, and Gimli wet his lips, his heart hammering as he pressed on. “Legolas, there are plenty of people who like exactly what they see when they look at you. Including me.”

Legolas’ head snapped around, his hair flying. “Pardon?”

Gimli forced himself to turn and meet his gaze, searching his own for something. “I like you very much, Legolas.”

His face felt warm, and it wasn’t from the fire. Legolas stared at him for a long moment, but before Gimli could begin to attempt a recovery for what he was sure was a huge emotional blunder. “I like you too, Gimli. Very much. Hopefully in the exact way that you seem to be implying."

Gimli blinked. “I, erm,, I am implying that I’d very much like to take you out on a date. As a date. To see if we’d like to go on more dates, ahem, together.” 

Legolas was nodding, smiling, despite the less-than-eloquent confession. “I would very much like to go on a date with you Gimli. Several, maybe.” He gently stroked the hair dusting Gimli’s knuckles. “You’ve become such a dear friend to me over the past few weeks than I’ve had in years. I’ve had more fun sitting here with you while you grade papers than I have on any date in a while, so I can only imagine how much fun we’ll get to have together.”

Gimli couldn’t resist a smirk. “I think our first impromptu date gave us a fairly good idea just how much fun we can have together.”

Legolas laughed. “Fair point.”

Gimli sobered a bit. “Legolas, I hope you know I didn’t tell you that just to make you feel better. I’ve liked you for a little while now, and I was planning on telling you anyway. And, um, what happened at the club can happen whenever. I don’t want anything more or less than what you want. I just want to go on a nice date, no strings or expectations.”

Gimli saw Legolas’ eyes watering again, and for a moment feared he had misspoken. “Gimli, you are truly the kindest soul I’ve ever met,” he sniffed a bit, rolling his eyes as he swiped a tear away. “I’m going to be so blotchy tomorrow it isn’t even funny. Gimli, I know you aren’t like the others. You’re nothing like them. That’s why I like you so much. You care about me. I know you aren’t expecting some quick fuck, or dinner and a show, or anything in that department. But thank you for taking care to tell me anyway.” 

And then, to Gimli’s utter shock, Legolas leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, just above his beard. He lingered for a moment, just long enough for Gimli to turn into his lips ever so slightly. When Legolas pulled back, Gimli reached up in return, and gently, so gently, wiped some stray tears away. 

“Enough o’ tha’ now, lad. We’ve had enough tears for tonight.”

Legolas nodded and sniffled. “Yes, indeed we have. Will you help me finish the cocoa? It’s a bit rich.”

Gimli grimaced. “As long as you take all the whipped cream. I hate gettin that shite in my beard.”

Legolas agreed. Gimli finally released his hand, but neither moved away and instead sat with their sides and legs pressed together. As Gimli leaned back into the couch and opened his laptop, he felt Legolas shift beside him. A moment later, he felt a head drop onto his shoulder.

Legolas spoke tentatively. “Is this okay?”

Gimli smiled, and let his head drop briefly onto Legolas’. “Aye. Very.”

Legolas snuggled closed, tucking his head just under Gimli’s jaw. The cocoa passed back and forth between them, and by the time Gimli had finished it, Legolas was dozing on his shoulder, long legs tucked up on the couch, his hands curled around Gimli’s elbow and bicep. Before he could think twice about it, Gimli brushed a kiss into Legolas’ mass of platinum hair, and then turned his attention back to tweaking his lecture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexa, play At Last by Etta James. So! Things are a-foot! Next chapter should be up soon. If the gods of time management bless me, maybe even by Christmas. 
> 
> Thank you all! Happy Holidays!


	9. 'Twas the Night before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lasgalen-Bowman clan heads to a holiday craftshow, where Legolas finds more than one surprise waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter touches briefly on light homophobia in a family dynamic and in a public setting. Nothing is explicit, but the warning is there. This topic is close to home for many, including myself. If anyone ever wants to reach out and talk, about anything really, you can always reach me on my tumblr. 
> 
> Second, and I am saying this explicity, I LOVE THE DWARVES. I adore them, and they are one of the best parts of Tolkien's world to me. But, I am using them to make a point on tradition, and how hard it can be to be different in a close family. So, no this is not intended to paint them in a negative light. Just a realistic light.
> 
> Third, this chapter is dedicated to deheerkonijn. This whole work is really, but particularly this chapter. It wouldn't exist without her, and her endless patience while I spitball crack-ass ideas. Thank you so much, friend.
> 
> Last but not least, I am overwhelmed and grateful for all of the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and attention. I cannot begin to express what everyone's interest in this fic means, the drive and enjoyment it has given me. I love to hear from all of you, and even if I don't respond, I read each and every comment. THANK YOU! SO MUCH!

Christmas Eve festivities were well underway across the city as the Lasgalen-Bowman clan made their way along. The clan of seven were headed to a holiday craft show and promenade in Greenwich, before they would head home for the evening and celebrate their usual festivities. The craft show had been Sigrid’s idea, and everyone, even Bain, had been interested in checking it out. Father and Bard had told the kids they could each get two things, or thereabouts, as long as they were reasonably priced, and as long as they were well behaved.

Legolas smothered a chuckle as Tauriel leaned in to whisper to him. “If Santa could see how much coal Bain has earned and not been gifted, he’d keel over.”

Legolas shushed her. “That’s rich coming from you, y’know. I distinctly recall you being six years old, wailing to Father that he had to let you stay up so that you could defend your years’ worth of questionable actions to the big red man himself. And then when he wouldn’t let you, you kicked my shin for no reason.”

Tauriel hummed. “I’m sure you did something to earn it.”

Legolas snorted, and let his mind wander away down one of its many rabbit trails. He was mulling over the perversion of the word naughty when his phone chirped. He dug it out to see a snapchat from Gimli. He couldn’t fight back his grin as he opened it, and saw he had sent a snap of a bunch of wooden walking sticks.

Huh. Weird.

Tauriel leaned in, craning her graceful neck to glance at his phone. She tsked. “It’s so weird that you’re friends with my engineering professor. Like, ew, get better friends. He can be so boring.”

Legolas felt his hackles rising before he could really stop himself, despite her obvious joke. “He’s not boring, Tauriel, don’t be brat just because you’d rather back googly eyes at his cousin than pay attention to his lectures. And he’s a fantastic friend, the best man I’ve ever known, so shut your mouth.”

Tauriel was gobsmacked by his hissed outburst. Legolas felt his ears flush, and glanced behind them to make sure no one had heard. The rest of their family was still a few paces behind, chatting away, none the wiser to Legolas’ little speech.

Tauriel cleared her throat. “Um, sorry, Leg. I didn’t know you were that close.”

Ah, well. In for a penny, out for a pound. “Well, we are. Very close. Closer than we expected to be.”

Tauriel stared at him, in that way that felt like she was staring through him, and Legolas fought to not squirm, and meet her stare as she probed his countenance for some tell. She must have found it a hair of a second later because she clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her gasp. “Oh my god, you’re  _ dating _ !”

Legolas shushed her wildly, making sure that still no one was listening. “Tauriel, shut up, shut up! I’ll buy you anything at the fair or after or whatever, just don’t say a  _ word _ yet!”

Tauriel was grinning ear to ear, like a cat that had caught a mouse. “Well, jeez, Leg, why didn’t you just say so, I’d never make fun of your boyfriend like that.” She giggled to herself and Legolas groaned.

“It’s not that serious yet. I think. Maybe it is, I don’t know. It’s just a thing right now.”

Tauriel was still smiling. “So that’s what’s gotten into you,” she punctuated her observation with a suggestive eyebrow dance. “I hope, at least. Leg, you have to tell me everything. How long?”

“I’ll tell you everything tonight after the kids and Father and Bard are asleep. When we watch those awful movies you love. I promise, so just shut up for now.”

“Yes, yes, fine, whatever, just tell me how long.”

Legolas ran a hand through his hair. He’d braided it back out of his face today, and down his back in a half-up half-down style. “Three weeks. Four dates, three weeks. Well, four formal dates. That is, um-”

Tauriel prodded him. “Yes, yes, go on.”

“Well, we see each other nearly every day informally, so, it’s probably closer to fifteen unofficial dates.”

Tauriel was dumbstruck. “Holy shit, Leg. That’s, um, well, that’s new for you.”

Legolas nodded. “It is,” he swallowed, and whispered. “I like it.”

Tauriel’s smile lost its teasing edge, and she wound her arm through his to squeeze it as they headed down the stairs to the train. “Good. If you’re this happy, it’s good. And you deserve to be this happy, always. I’ll be routing for you, and I’d love to really meet him sometime. Y’know, in a context where I’m not begging for an extension.”

Legolas smiled and nodded, squeezing her arm back. They filed into the crowded train, and Legolas clasped Tauriel to one side, and little Tilda to the other as strangers pressed around. He felt a hand on his back, and turned to see Bain with his hand fisted in his peacoat. He nodded at him, and Bain nodded back, pressing closer as the train began moving. 

Maybe Legolas would be able to make some more progress with him today. One could dream, after all.

\---

The craft fair was stunning. It was primarily outdoors, in Bryant Park, but there were stalls, and massive tents canopy-ing most of the affair. Soft artificial snow was floating down quietly, and soft jazz christmas music drifted about, weaving melodically between vendors shouting their wares and haggling with buyers. Christmas trees dotted the whole park, decorated and glittering in full splendor. Legolas was already scoping some prime spots for selfies and had picked out a few good landscape shots when something tugged at his coat. He looked down to meet Tilda’s eyes.

She gestured for him to lean down so she could whisper, so Legolas leaned over. “Bain and I still need to go find one last present for Sigrid and Tauriel, so will you come with us so we can be sneaky.”

Legolas winked surreptitiously at her and nodded before he stood and turned to his father. “I’m going to take Tilda and Bain will me to help me find Tauriel a little something. I’m one present short of satisfied, and that won’t do. Will you keep her and Sigrid away while we shop?”

Thranduil nodded. “Yes, that’s no problem. Keep an eye on your brother and sister, don’t let them have too many sweets, and take Tilda to see Santa if she wants. We’ll have our phones on if you need.”

Bard nodded, winding his arm through Thranduil’s. “Sigrid and Tauriel will be starting on this end, they said, so start over by that woodworking table. We’re going to check out the ice skating.”

Legolas smirked. “Have fun on your date.”

Thranduil smirked, actually deigning to wink at Legolas. “Not to worry, we will. Come, my love.”

Tilda giggled as they walked off, while Bain rolled his eyes. “They’re sappy.” 

Legolas hummed. “Yes, well, they’re grown ups, they’re allowed to be whatever they want.”

Bain shrugged, hands in his pockets. “PDA can still be gross.”

Tilda rolled her eyes. “Well I think they’re cute.”

“You think skunks are cute, too, Til.”

"They are!"

Legolas stepped between them before a genuine argument could erupt. He grabbed Tilda’s hand in his own, and grabbed Bain around the shoulders to direct them both toward the tent Bard had pointed out. Bain was stiff in his grip, but he didn’t fight him, so Legolas thanked the powers that be for small Christmas miracles. 

He released Bain once they arrived under the tent to not wander far, and that if he sees something he wants, to let him know so he could text Bard a picture for approval. Tilda and he walked hand in hand among the tables, picking up baubles and trinkets as they caught their eyes. Legolas noticed that for a little kid, Tilda was already developing a solid eye and a thoughtful taste. He’d like to take her to the outlet shops someday soon, see what kinds of outfits she picked out for herself.

He rounded a table covered in hand-carved tobacco pipes when a stand of walking sticks caught his eye. They looked so familiar, but why-

His breath caught. There, just behind the walking sticks, unloading a crate of beautifully painted matryoshka dolls, was Gimli. 

Gimli was wearing an open red flannel, a worn greyed tee shirt, black canvas jeans with at least three carabiners hooked into them with pocket tools hanging from each. He had most of his piercings in, and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow, giving Legolas an eyeful of the lower half of his white and brown ink sleeves. Just as Legolas was deciding to call out to him, Bain beat him to it. 

“Hey! Legolas! Check out these longbows!” 

Gimli’s head snapped up as Bain came dashing over, and they made eye contact. He raised a hand, and smiled, but his line of sight was obscured by an over-excited teenager before he could move.

“Leg! Legolas, c’mon, you gotta see these.”

Legolas allowed himself to be pulled away for Bain’s sake. They were making progress, and he would be stupid to screw that up now.

And they were beautiful longbows, too. Legolas hefted one into his grip, admiring the detailing and finish on the cherrywood. He tested the drawback, satisfied that it was a respectable 70 lbs. Not just for decoration then. And the way Bain was eyeing them was giving him some ideas.

He made sure Tilda was well occupied with the miniature catapults before turning to Bain. “You know, Bain, you’re almost fourteen. I was around that age when I started practicing archery. I’m sure if we spoke to our fathers, they’d be more than happy to let you come up with me to the range on the weekends I go.”

Legolas had been practicing archery since he was about eleven, to be honest, but Bain didn’t need to know that. He hadn’t belonged to a team since he was in high school, but their family property up in Ithaca had a massive archery run, and stables, and Legolas often spent long weekends relaxing up there with Tauriel, or by himself. 

Bain’s eyes lit up. “Really? Are you sure?” he looked down, running his hands along a beautiful cedar bow. The ends were detailed as leaves, and vines wound along the curve. “That’s your family home. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Legolas reached out, let a hand drop onto Bain’s shoulder. “It would be no imposition to have you.  _ Ma famille es ta famille, oui? _ I would appreciate the company, and the challenge of teaching, anyway. Think on it. We can discuss with your dads later.”

Bain nodded, but he was smiling quietly, and Legolas cheered inwardly to have made such a big step. He put his bow back on the display rack, Bain’s as well, and glanced around for Tilda. She was over by the walking sticks again, and Legolas hastened over. When he arrived, though, Gimli was nowhere to be found. He checked his phone to find it void of notifications. He sighed, but brightened when Tilda tugged him over to a set of carved jewelry boxes. 

“I’d like to get Sigrid and Tauriel these, I think.”

Legolas nodded. “That’s an excellent idea, Til. They both have a lot of jewelry, I’m sure they’d appreciate something as beautiful as this to keep it in.”

“Aye, they are beautiful, aren’t they?” A gruff voice interrupted him, and Legolas glanced up, and then down slightly, to meet the eyes of a stocky and bearded fellow with a thick scottish brogue. His hair resembled a lions’ mane, and his bold brow was familiar. “Ma lad made those himself, he did.”

Bain quirked a brow. “Your son carved these? Why?”

The man chuckled. “Ma lads got no shortage of jewelry himself, ye see. All sorts of bits and bobs in his face and ears. Aye, he’s even got some metal in his tongue. Jewelry ain’t jus’ for women.”

Legolas had a feeling he knew who he was talking with, but decided to approach it carefully. “And is your son working here today? These boxes are quite beautiful, I’d love to extend the appreciation firsthand.”

The man’s eyes turned toward him, searching. Legolas knew what the man was looking for and hid no part of his clearly effeminate countenance from him. The man’s expression shuttered. “Nae, mah lads not about t'dae, sorry. I’ll be sure to pass along-”

“Pass along, what, Da?”

Sure enough, Gimli stood a few feet behind his father. He was pushing his hair up into a bushy, half-braided bun. He wasn’t necessarily glaring, but he didn’t look thrilled. 

The man, Gimli’s dad, backpedaled smoothly. “Ach, Gimli! I didn’t see you’d made it. I thought you’d be out and about with Kili all day. Well, there’s a good lad, helpin’ out the family.”

Before Gimli could respond, Legolas cut in smoothly. “Gimli, is it? My little sister would like to purchase two of your jewelry boxes, please. How much are they?”

Gimli brushed past his father, and met his eyes. Legolas beat back his smile and flush with all he had, fighting to maintain his cool and aloof composure. He pushed Tilda in front of him. 

Tilda looked up at him with her wide eyes. “These are very beautiful, Mr. Gimli. Did it take you long to make them.”

Gimli’s eyes softened as glanced at Tilda. “Nae, not too long, lassie. A few weeks each, at most.”

Bain cut in. “Do you really have a tongue piercing?” He blurted, then reddened as he realized that was maybe not the most polite way to ask. Legolas smothered a chuckled in his emerald scarf. 

Gimli laughed. “Aye, I do,” he pushed his tongue out, but it was void of embellishment. There was a small indent in the center though. “Not thafe to wea to work, tho, thee?” 

Tilda and Bain giggled, and Gimli smiled. Legolas let his eyes roam over the piercings he had come to know quite well. Two little dots above the left eyebrow, a mottle of dots, and a bar in the ears, a septum piercing, a nose stud. Legolas knew there were holes for enough to make even the scariest biker gang shake, but they were kept fair conservative today. 

Legolas decided to have some fun. “I take it you use one of these yourself, then? You have jewelry enough for three, it would seem.”

Gimli finally met his eyes again, and Legolas savored the fire he found there. “Aye, I’ve made more than a few for myself. Not once has a hinge ever broken, no chips, scrapes, or wood rot. As fine in quality as any you’d buy at a department store.”

Legolas quirked a brow. “Finer, I would say. These are each unique, no? One of a kind, designed and crafted by skilled hands. In fact,” he made a show of craning his neck about the tent. Luckily for him, Gimli’s father had wandered away. “I’d dare to say the most skilled hands here.”

He held Gimli’s gaze intently, but gave nothing away to either of his siblings. Gimli was glaring at him, and Legolas watched as he shifted his stance a bit before addressing him. “I’d never presume to be more talented at my chosen trade than any of my cousins are at theirs, sir.”

Legolas crowed inwardly, smirked outwardly. “Goodness no, that would be arrogant. It is all you can do to hone your skills with passion, and master what you elect to make your own. And clearly, you have,” he flicked his eyes down, feigning a glance at the table. “So, how much for the jewelry boxes.”

Gimli glanced down at Tilda. “How much would you pay for that, little lassie?”

Tilda, who had begun perusing other boxes with Bain as the adults talked, turned back to Gimli. “Well, I dunno. Da says that when people work really hard to make something, you can’t put a price on the love and care they make it with. But Papa says that anything can be bought if you know what to look for.”

Legolas was chuckling to himself as Gimli looked at him for clarification. He knelt down to Tilda’s level. “Tilda, how much money do you have?”

“Papa gave me 30, but Da gave me another 30 ‘just in case’. So maybe 30, or maybe 60,” she looked lost. “Legolas, money is confusing.”

“It is, isn’t it. Let me see the box.”

The jewelry box was exquisite. There was no price sticker on it, but the craftsmanship was undeniably talented. Legolas ran his hands over the intricately carved flower, the trailing vines, the smatterings of stars dotting the box. Tauriel would adore this one. 

It was also at least a 50 dollar value alone. He regarded Tilda.

“Tell you what. If you buy us hot chocolate after this, I’ll buy the boxes for you. That way you don’t have to be confused, and we’re all happy. That’s called a fair trade. Deal?”

Tilda, none the wiser about the intricacies of finance, nodded happily. She pointed out the box she wanted to get Sigrid, and then joined Bain by the snow globes. He turned to Gimli. 

“Which of these is your favorite piece?”

Gimli blinked at him, considering, and then ducked under the table. He brought out a medium sized box, a dark walnut piece. The lid featured a carved a raised tree of life encircled by a dragon, or maybe a snake, and beyond that, a smooth glossy sea and carved mountains stretching to the edge. The carving was so intricate, so detailed, that the art was both raised an inch away from the lid, and extended at least half an inch in depth inward. The roots spilled over the lid and draped around the lock. The lake was a deep sapphire, sparkly, fashioned from a sanded and polished silicate inlay, with veins of gold pyrite twining. The mountains and tree were smooth to the touch, and the leaves of the tree were so real, that Legolas felt he could reach out and sink his hand into them. 

He forgot to breathe. “Gimli…”

He scratched the back of his head. “I kept this one hidden. I don’t know if I want it to be sold yet.” 

Legolas swallowed. “Please. It is beautiful, and I would be blessed to own it.”

Gimli considered him, and smiled. “Aye, Legolas. I’d be honored to sell it to you.”

Legolas watched as he placed all three into protective bags, and fished some cash out of his wallet. He handed it to Gimli, and leaned in as close as he dared. “Are you done here anytime soon?”

“I’ll be off in half an hour. Should I wait fer ye?” 

He nodded. “Please. There is one more thing I’d like to pick up, but I need to get Bain and Tilda back to Father and Bard first. I’ll come find you.”

Gimli nodded, and took the folded up bills. He glanced down, then up urgently. “Legolas, you daft ninny, this is far too much.”

Legolas fixed him with a hard glare. “It is what I think my prizes are worth, and you’ll do well to accept it.”

Gimli glowered, but nodded after a moment and pocketed the money. “Guess I’ll just have to find a pretty date to spend all this on.”

Legolas smirked. “Good luck with that. Come, Bain, Tilda, let’s get back to the others.”

\---

By the time they had grabbed hot chocolate, found their fathers, and dropped the gifts off with them, Legolas’ half hour was nearly up. He had just enough time to get Tilda settled into ice skates, and hand her wobbling and shaking off to Thranduil, before he was off like a rocket. He had texted Bard to explain his plan, and when he got the thumbs up, raced back to the longbows with renewed vigor. He spoke with the woman and young man there, a Dis and Fili, who Legolas could only assume was related to Kili, and happily purchased the bow Bain had been eyeing, with a decent and balanced 30 lb draw on it. Easy enough for Bain to work up to and use without pain, but not one he would out grow quickly. 

For Tauriel, he purchased the cherrywood number he’d been holding before, and for himself, he purchased a thin and willowy grey bow, with white gold and sapphire embellishments. It was more for show, but it would look nice in his apartment. He left the booth with a hearty thank you, and their business cards, which he tucked carefully into his wallet. He was nearing the front of the tent when he felt someone fall into step beside him. 

“Don’t say anything or hold my hand until we’re outside.”

Legolas nodded, and let Gimli lead him away. Once they rounded one of the glittering Christmas trees, Gimli took his hand and threaded their fingers together. Legolas beamed.

“How has your day been, then?”

Gimli sighed explosively, running his hand through his curls. “Long and feckin stupid. I love my family, don’t be mishearin’ me, but by the gods are they a bleedin’ handful.”   


Legolas hummed in sympathy, tugging his hand free to wrap an arm around Gimli’s shoulders. Gimli’s arm wound around his waist in return, and they circled the shops lazily in silence for a while, enjoying each others company.

Legolas was first to break it. “Tauriel knows about us.” 

Gimli nodded. “I’m surprised it took her so long to parse it out. I’m going to tell Kili and Fili soon.”

Legolas hummed. “I plan on telling my family after the holiday madness is over. Bard and Father are going crazy with presents and decorating and their jobs, plus now the kids will be on holiday break, and Tilda still believe in Santa so that’s a thing we’re all trying not to fuck up, and Bain is still being the occasional shit, and I’ve still got gifts to wrap,” he blinked. “Wow, sorry. That was an avalanche of bullshit you didn’t ask about.”

Gimli chuckled and squeezed his waist before he could start to be embarrassed. “I always want to know what’s ailin’ ye, whether I ask or not.”

Legolas nodded and smiled. “So,” he started, trying and failing to be subtle. “That was your dad.”

Gimli stiffened under his arm. “Aye, that was me old man.”

Legolas waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, decided to prod. “You know, I’ll always want to know what’s going on with you, too. You’re always there for me when I’m, y’know, breaking down in dramatic hysterics and feeling like crap. I would really love to do the same for you, when you need it.” His face was warm, but he hadn’t stuttered and flailed, so that was a victorious pep talk in his book.

Gimli sighed. “It’s very complicated.”

Legolas nodded. “Do they know you’re gay?”

“Aye.”

“Do they like it?”

“Well, they don’t dislike it. But they’re certainly not going to be flyin’ any pride flags.”

“I see. I think. Do they know about me?”

“Ah, no.”

Legolas nodded, not at all offended. These things could be hard to navigate for anyone, even a man as confident and boisterous as Gimli. He glanced around, and then leaned over to kiss the top of Gimli’s head. “That’s okay, you know. We’re still new. We’re not even really we, yet.”

Gimli glanced up at him. “Would you like to be?”

Legolas stopped in his tracks, earning a few glares from passerby. “Pardon?”

Gimli met his gaze unflinching. “I’m not saying we start or change anything right this moment. But, after all this jingle-belled-bullshit is said and done, I’d, um, like to talk to you about maybe being exclusive. Or, y’know, whatever it is people call it.”

“You wanna be my boyfriend?”

Gimli nodded. “Aye. If you wanna be mine.”

Legolas nodded, and yanked Gimli off the little pathway of the fake Christmas forest they were standing in, until they found a sort of maintenance barn. He tugged Gimli behind it, and pressed him up against the rough wood. He wound his arms around Gimli’s broad shoulders and carefully let the canvas bag with the bows in it slide to the ground, before leaning down to press his forehead to Gimli’s.

“After the holidays, let’s have a very long talk about all of the emotional stuff that comes with being together. Right now, let’s not really talk about anything, kay?”

Gimli was still nodding when Legolas pressed their lips together, gently at first, trading soft and unhurried kisses as he wound his fingers into the thick and full beard grazing his jaw. Gimli’s hand left his waist and trailed up his back, curling around the back of his neck and pulling him in closer, as the kisses turned decidedly less soft. Legolas bit back a moan as he felt something cold and metallic press against his lower lip.

“You bastard, I thought you left your stud out when you were working.”

Gimli grinned, sly and pleased, and Legolas’ knees buckled a bit at the deep brogue he spoke in, a scant inch from his lips. “Aye, ah wouldnae exactly consider this ta be workin’, darlin’.”

Legolas whined and yanked Gimli back to his lips with the grip he had in his beard, tearing a snarl from Gimli at the rough handling. Tongues pressed and slid, and Legolas couldn’t keep back his moan any more as the piercing danced across his mouth. Gimli only moved away from his lips to trail kisses down his jaw, and he yanked Legolas’ scarf aside for better access. 

“How much longer were ya plannin’ on wearin’ tha scarf?”

“What the hell kind of question is tha- ah!” Legolas slapped a hand over his own mouth to attempt to muffle the cry that was ripped from his throat. Gimli’s teeth and lips had stopped exploring, and were instead ravishing a very sensitive spot on his neck with relish. Legolas dropped his head into Gimli’s shoulder, clinging to him as jolt after jolt of pleasure struck at his core. Gimli pulled them ever closer by pressing a hand against the underside of his thigh and lifting his long, jegging-clad leg onto his own hip. Legolas was now all but draped over Gimli, content to be helpless against the mouth worrying at him.

Gimli came away from his neck with a lewd  _ pop! _ , and Legolas did his best to catch his breath. He could feel Gimli chuckling with satisfaction, and groaned. “You’re going to absolutely kill me, Gim. Not to be gauche, but I haven’t been this fucking hard in months, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it now.”

Gimli brushed a kiss against his ear, tongue darting out to drag his piercing along the tip. Legolas whimpered, tugging on his curly braid-bun. “Aye, tha’s true. But this is fun.”

“Find us a bed, and I’ll show you fun.”

Gimli smiled. “Deal. In the New Year, once we’re both a bit more free, we’ll find a bed.”

Legolas’ stomach swooped in anticipation, and he brought his lips to Gimli’s for another, softer kiss. He’d never get tired of this. He’d had his share of people across the board, but none of them kissed like this, made him feel like this. He sighed. “Deal. Now, I’ve got to be getting back. What’s the damage?”

Gimli glanced at his neck, and winced visibly. “Ah, feck. I’m righ' sorry, darlin’, that’s gonna be rough.”

Legolas rolled his eyes and fished out his phone, flipping the camera on himself, and found he couldn’t keep his jaw up. Calling it a hickey would be polite. He groaned, but couldn’t fight the giddy, lovestruck grin.

He placed a kiss on Gimli’s nose. “I’ll get you back for that next year, you know.”

“Aye, I look forward to it.”

They helped each other right clothing, hide marks, and Legolas carefully collected his bag of bows. Gimli eyed it as they made their way surreptitiously back to the main affair. “How long have you been an archer.”

Legolas shrugged. “Since I was a kid. It’s a passionate hobby of mine, like your carving. These bows are beautiful, and I’m going to try to use them to bond with Bain.”

Gimli nodded. “Let me know how that goes.”

“Are you busy tonight?”

Gimli shrugged. “Eh. Having a dinner with family tonight and tomorrow, but I always duck away by midnight. Why?”

Legolas tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I’d like to video chat later, if you want. Wish you a merry Christmas.”

Gimli nodded and smiled. “I’d love that. See you then, then.”

“Can I hug you?”

Gimli pulled Legolas into his arms, and Legolas happily draped himself over the shorter man. He pressed a hidden kiss to the curve of his blunt ear before he pulled away. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Legolas."

“Merry Christmas Eve, Gimli.”

They shared another secretive smile, and then Legolas ducked away into the throng to find his family. 

\---

A few hours later found the Lasgalen-Bowman clan draped in various states of lethargy around the living room, clad in pajamas and listening to a Golden Bough vinyl. Thranduil was dozing on the sectional couch with Sigrid’s head on his shoulder. She was completely knocked out, as she spent the day ice skating and running from booth to booth with Tauriel. Bain was flopped on his stomach playing on his video game console in the middle of the room. Tilda and Tauriel were both leaning on Legolas as he flicked through his instagram, Tilda working her way through a young reader Christmas book for homework over break, Tauriel also soundly asleep and potentially drooling on him.

Legolas grimaced. What he didn’t do for his sisters.

Bard came into the room with a tray of hot chocolate, rousing almost everyone back to wakefulness. Bain and Tilda scrambled up to get theirs first, Tilda bringing Legolas his own since Tauriel was refusing to move. Bard chuckled and brought over Tauriel’s to stave off the bickering that would inevitably erupt over sharing a mug. Bain turned back to the couch with an extra in his hand and headed for Sigrid and Thranduil.

Thranduil smiled, clearly still not quite awake. “That’s very kind of you Bain, but your sister is not rousing for anything. Not even your Da’s incredible hot chocolate.”   


Bain shuffled a bit in front of the pair. “I know. Um, here, for you. I know you’re not really supposed to drink it for grown up reasons. But it’s Christmas, so surely not all the rules are in place?”

Legolas held his breath as he watched the interaction, but elbowed Tauriel hard enough that she coughed and splashed hot cocoa down the side of her mug. She turned to swat him, but stopped and turned when she realized .

Thranduil seemed to freeze, torn between accepting the offering and sticking to his fastidious personal rules. Legolas glared at him, willing him to accept. This was such a big step, Bain was trying so hard, he was just a little kid-

“Thank you very much Bain,” Thranduil reached forward carefully, trying not to jostle Sigrid. “I would love some hot chocolate. Would you care to sit with me while your father reads us our classic tale?”

Now it was Bain’s turn to freeze, but only for a second. He nodded, and plopped down on the couch a few scant inches from Thranduil. He nestled into the plush couch, dragging his favorite Welsh football fleece throw down over himself. It was so massive it seemed to drown the kid. Bard was grinning from ear to ear, and he quickly turned from the scene before Bain could see.

“The book is in your study, yes love?” Bard called over his shoulder, already heading upstairs.

“Yes, dear.” Thranduil dropped his head back against the couch, content to resume his dozing and sip idly at his cocoa. Bain resumed playing his game, cradling his cocoa in his lap, while Sigrid snored away, all but dead to the world.

Legolas and Tauriel were exchanging ecstatic glances, while Tilda pouted. “I want to go sit with Papa, too.”

Tauriel chuckled. “You know what, Til? Me too.” She grabbed some blankets and pillows off the couch they were on, and tossed them by Thranduil’s feet. Legolas rose with her to go flop on the floor in front of their father, while Tilda climbed into her step-dad’s lap. By the time Bard arrived with a battered, old, leather-bound book with gold filigree scrawled through it, they were all firmly snuggled around Thranduil. 

Legolas and Tauriel were reclined on pillows and blankets on the floor a few feet in front of the fireplace, their heads resting on their father’s legs. Tilda was flopped in his lap, her forehead resting against Thranduil’s collarbone. Sigrid was still asleep with her head on one shoulder, and Bain had carefully inched closer to sit shoulder to shoulder with him as he turned off his console. Thranduil had one arm around Sigrid, and one was carefully running through Legolas and Tauriel’s hair, alternating heads with each pass. 

Bard stopped in his tracks, and Legolas watched him scramble to fish his phone out of his pocket. He was personally too tired to even try for a good angle, so he figured that Bard would be one of the lucky few to get his weird jaw shadow on record with his head at this angle. After a moment, Bard must have gotten enough pics to be satisfied, because he sat down in the armchair just across from his family, grabbed his own hot chocolate, and cleared his throat. 

Everyone, even Sigrid for a brief moment, roused at the familiar, enchanting words that fell from Bard’s lips in his Welsh-accented voice. 

_ ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. _

Legolas felt his father’s hand pull away, and glanced up lazily to see him drape it on the top of the couch above Bain and recline his head back, eyes closed as his husband’s voice warmed the room. Legolas let his own eyes drift shut, the warmth from the cocoa and fire and his family’s closeness seeping into his bones. Idly, he spared a thought for Gimli, and a pang went through his heart to think that he might not be having as wonderful a holiday. He resolved to facetime him as soon as the kids were asleep, while he wrapped the last gift. 

Tauriel’s head slid to land against his, and he scowled through his affectionate smile. She drooled and she knew it. 

Legolas knew he had drifted because he woke up to the sound of Bard quietly exclaiming,

_ Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all! _

He could hear Tilda’s giggle above him. “That’s my favorite part, Papa.”

Thranduil’s chuckle was warm. “I know,  _ mon petite. _ It is a very fun part.” 

Bain was giggling to himself too, and Legolas looked to see that in his mostly asleep state, his head had tilted to rest on Thranduil as well. Thranduil made no motion to wrap his arm around him as he did Sigrid, but he seemed content all the same.

_ And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight- _

_ “Merry Christmas to all!”  _ Legolas, Tilda, Bain, Thranduil, and Bard cheered together, albeit quietly.  _ “And to all a good night! _

They all chuckled to themselves. Bard rose from his chair to come sit on Bain’s other side, brushing his hand through his son’s hair. Bain smiled sleepily at his Da, but made no move to get up. Tauriel and Sigrid were firmly asleep, worn out from the day’s adventures. Legolas noted the time. 10:30. It was well past time to call Gimli.

He feigned a gasp. “Tilda! Look, it’s almost Christmas!”

She gasped back genuinely. “I’m not asleep yet! I have to get to sleep! Santa won’t bring my present if I’m not asleep!” She scrambled off of Thranduil, pausing briefly to hug him goodnight. Bard hugged her as well, smothering laughter. She bid Bain a goodnight as well, before taking off like a rocket to get to sleep in time for Christmas.

Legolas sighed. “Excellent. I still have gifts to wrap, so I’m off. Ugh, Father, move her head. She’s drooling  _ again _ .”

Thranduil sighed, carefully lifting his daughter’s head off of Legolas’ shoulder. “I’ve wiped enough of your sleep-drool off my attire in years past to know when a pot is calling a kettle black, Legolas.”

Legolas sniffed, peeling himself off the floor. “Whatever. She still snuggles like a wet monkey.”

Tauriel hummed in her dazed state. “Luh you too, Leg.”

He waved a hand dismissively, ignoring the look his father and Bard were giving him. “Yeah, yeah you too. Anyway, good night all, and Merry Christmas.” He leaned down to hug Bard and his father and he took a shot a ruffled Bain’s hair. He wasn’t glared to a pile of smoking rubble, so yay, another victory.

Now to call his not-boyfriend.

\---

Thranduil and Bard bid Legolas goodnight, and then Bain followed suit, peeling himself off the couch as he yawned his goodbyes. That left their eldest daughters to be wrangled to bed.

Thranduil eyed his 6 foot daughter. “You’re the fireman, dear one, you’re carrying Tauriel.”

Bard huffed, but he smiled. “Only once in a while, so your excuse is invalid. But,” he squatted, and lifted Tauriel easily into his arms in a princess carry. Her hair was so long it brushed the ground, even from feet up. In the New Year, Thranduil would take her out to the family stylist. 

He turned and slid an arm below Sigrid’s knees, and lifted her the same. The girl was slight, and on the shorter side of 16. It was no issues for him to carry her against his chest. He followed his husband up the stairs, and into their rooms. Legolas and Tauriel were sharing their childhood room for the night, so Bard ducked in after knocking to ensure that no presents were revealed. Through the door, he caught a glimpse of Legolas’ open laptop. He was skyping with someone while he wrapped. 

“Interesting.” Thranduil murmured to himself. He deposited Sigrid in her own bed down the hall, and chuckled when the girl didn’t even rouse slightly. He pulled the fleece blanket at the foot of her bed up and around her shoulders, and made sure to discreetly flick on the tiny nightlight plugged in by the door. Waking up in darkness could be disorienting, and the light was warm enough to not disrupt. He closed the door behind him, and met his husband in their room. He slid the double doors shut with a click behind him. 

Bard grinned up at him from the mess of presents they had wrapped, and the few that still needed to be handled. Thranduil joined him on the ground, where they worked in silence for a bit. 

“So,” Bard began. “Tonight seemed to go really well. Really, really well.”

Thranduil nodded, carefully curling a ribbon with a pair of scissors. “Yes, I would agree. Bain seemed to be making some effort all on his own tonight. He is a charming boy, very sweet when he wants to be.”

Bard snorted. “Yeah, too bad he’d usually rather be a pain in my arse.”

Thranduil sighed. “Yes, some days are better than others. But, we must take the good that comes our way, to help us through the bad. I enjoyed today. I enjoyed seeing our sons get along. I was touched by his offering of peace. Maybe this is yet a phase. Maybe we will need to work more. We will deal with each situation as it comes.”

Bard put his gift to the side, and stared at Thranduil until he looked up and met his gaze. “How did I ever get lucky enough to call you my husband?”

Thranduil snorted. “You were a last minute rescue to my photoshoot, and one who was not afraid to give it to me straight, as it were,” they both shared a smirk. “You met my ice with your fire, and gave me back my passion.”

Bard regarded him seriously. “So it’s true that you’ve been designing again, then? The studio was murmuring, and you’ve been holed up in the office and downtown.”

“Yes,” Thranduil winced. “I took up my pencil once again. I am sorry, my love, for my long hours. They are not healthy, they have strained us, and strained you. I will do better. I promise,” he grabbed for Bard’s hand, and pulled him close. “I promise you.” He brushed a kiss across his husband’s knuckles.

Bard nodded. “I know you will, because you love me, and you don’t run from your problems. Especially not when they’re 13 years old and play Fortnight. You’re still getting your legs under you. Besides, something is changing around here, and I don’t know what yet. But I think it will be for the better.”

Thranduil smiled, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss against his lips. “From your mouth to Santa’s ears, so to say. Now, come, we must wrap these and get them downstairs discreetly. I don’t know if our little one yet sleeps.”

Bard stole another quick kiss before leaping to his feet, socks sliding effortlessly against the floor. He grabbed an empty laundry basket, and began loading gifts in. Thranduil tossed him some of the easy ones, stuffed animals and basketballs and such, and soon they made their way down the stairs carefully. Thranduil was having a grand time stealing swats at his husband’s ass when he heard giggling coming from Legolas and Tauriel’s room. He and Bard shared a glance, before carefully backtracking to listen outside the first bedroom.

Thranduil had never been more grateful for his silent floorboards. 

_ “No, there is no way that actually happened. You are a liar, Durinson!” _

_ “Nae, I’m no’ lyin’! He had the feckin blanket on like a cape, and was cuttin’ aboot like a bleedin weapon, and the bottle got stuck in the bloody thing, and when he went to hit the high note, he tried to-,”  _ there was a break off, and whoever Legolas was skyping with was clearly laughing himself into breathless mirth. “ _ He tried ta sweep his arm forward, and he launched the bloody thing into the wall!” _

Legolas was laughing hard, no matter how much he tried to muffle it. Thranduil was rooted to the spot. His son hadn’t sounded that happy in far, far too long. 

_ “So, all in all, not the worst family Christmas Eve.”  _ The mirth seemed to die down. 

Legolas spoke tentatively.  _ “Did anyone say anything about today.” _

The other person, a Scotsman, clearly, sighed.  _ “Aye, yeah. It’s all bullshite, Legolas. They don’t say it to be mean, they think it’s funny. We’re all always poking at one another, we always have. It’s just-” _

There was silence again for a moment, and Bard and Thranduil shared a long glance. Legolas picked up where his partner had left off.  _ “It gets old being the butt of every joke, yeah?” _

_ “Aye, yeah. Anyway, my dad made his usual ‘wow, pretty lass you sold those pieces to, eh?’ comment, and I took the bait, and then my ma made us both walk away.” _

_ “Gimli, you didn’t need to-” _

_ “Aye, yes, I did. Even if they don’t know who you are, it doesn’t mean they get to say whatever the bloody feck they like ta.” _

_ “Well, then, thank you. For defending my masculine honor.” _

_ “Now let’s not start making things up, now-” _

_ “Oh, you-!” _

The pair dissolved into giggles again. Bard gesturing for them to continue to the living room so they did. They placed the presents under the tree in silence, arranged them carefully, and then flopped together onto the couch. Bard tucked himself under Thranduil’s arm, and Thranduil in turn tugged him close into his side. 

Bard spoke first, again. “So, that was something.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve never heard Leg laugh like that.”

Thranduil smiled vaguely, lost in memories of a young boy with missing teeth and glitter smeared over his eyelids and cheeks. “It has been a long time since I have heard my little leaf so happy. So carefree and open and joyous.”

Bard hummed, rubbing his thigh. “That’s not on anyone but the concept of growing up, Thran. Don’t go blaming yourself now."

Thranduil sighed. “I try not to. And I am better now than before. But I will always wonder, and ponder, that if I had done things differently, would my children have had a happier childhood. Would I have been a happier father? These things, we can never know them for certain. Yet, I still wonder.”

Bard nodded, used to his husband’s occasional reveries. “I understand, darling. I do. But, don’t reflect on your past when your future is so bright. They adore you now, more than ever it seems. You are more father than manager and boss to them, and that is all they want, and all you want, and so it’s good. And the young ones love you, even Bain in his own atrociously dramatic way.”

“I am luckier than most who screw up as I did. I have gotten a second chance with my own children, and another with yours. A second chance to be a father to such brilliant people is a blessing that no man can drop down a chimney, or buy at a retail outlet. I am truly honored.”

Bard turned, and pulled Thranduil’s face down to his in a bracing, deep, loving kiss. Thranduil gripped him back just as direly, running his tongue casually along his husband’s lower lip. Bard moaned quietly, and made to deepen the kiss, but Thranduil pulled back just enough to tease. “Save it for the bedroom, my love. We’re not done down here yet.”

Bard growled. “You’re a right bastard, Thranduil.”

“Your bastard, though.”

He grinned, and pressed a kiss to the wedding band on Thranduil’s hand as it rested on his jaw. “Aye, for better or worse.”

Thranduil pushed off the couch, leaving Bard to take a bite out of the cookies Tilda had left out for Santa. He made the rounds, checking windows and alarms and turning off lights as he went. He grabbed the candy canes out of the tall cabinet, and trotted back to the tree. He hung them haphazardly off boughs and ornaments, and placed them in the now-filled stockings. He gave Bard the thumbs up to head upstairs, and followed him a moment later after checking the front door. 

As he passed Legolas’ room, he could still hear murmurings and giggles, but did not stop to listen. If this was as serious as it seemed, his little leaf would come to him eventually. Whatever else stood as truth about their relationship, Legolas and he had always been honest about matter of the heart. It was their way. 

Tauriel, however, had yet to fess up to the boyfriend she obviously already had, or very much wanted. 

Thranduil pushed these thoughts from his mind as he settled into bed next to Bard. He tossed his shirt to the floor, but kept the sleep pants. He was tired, and it was a balm on his stressed and weary mind to settle into bed and nestle into the arms of his husband, chest to chest. He let his head fall onto Bard’s collarbone, just beneath his jaw, and hummed in content when fingers began combing through his long white hair. 

“I adore you so, my darling heart.” Bard murmured in his ear. Thranduil grinned widely, for there was no one here to see and judge his crooked smile, his love-struck countenance.

“ _ Je t’adore,  _ my love, my one. I love you endlessly.” Bard’s grin was pressed against the crown of his head, and Thranduil drifted off with visions of Christmas morning weaving through his dreams.

\---

“Goodnight, Gimli, I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, darlin’. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Legolas closed his laptop with a click, and picked up the wrapped bows. He trotted downstairs quickly, leaned them carefully again the hearth wall, and retreated to bed. He stripped down to his sleep tee and boxers, and wiggled carefully into bed. He was just fading asleep when Tauriel’s voice floated up from the bottom bunk.

“You know, Leg, I’m no expert, but if I were to be, I would say that someone around here is in deeper than he knows.”

“Goodnight Tauriel, thank you for your input.”

As she huffed and rolled over to head back to sleep, Legolas attempted to do the same. After a half hour of his mind producing nothing by images and thoughts and soundbites of Gimli, Gimli, Gimli, he realized that his sister may be onto something.

Merry Christmas, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feliz Navidad and all that jazz. We will get back to the plot next time! Drop a kudo, comment, etc, and feel free to hmu on tumblr if ya ever wanna chat. Happy Holiday season to all!!


	10. How my dreams they let me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli and Legolas have a much needed talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient and supportive as I've struggled to block out and write this chapter. The holidays are messy as hell, and this chapter was delayed because of it. But! I will now be back to updating once a week. 
> 
> Major thanks to deheerkonijn for helping me plot out this angst fest. 
> 
> IMPORTANT: depression, anxiety, and talks of suicidal ideation are all features of this chapter. Legolas' sea longing is an integral part of his character, and in this AU, the equivalent of that is suicidal thoughts. The dialogue of this chapter, the responses and situations, are all drawn from my own experiences with mental illness and counseling. If anyone out there ever needs to talk, please reach out. You're never alone, and there is always another option.

CHPT 10

A week into the new year, Gimli found himself walking up to the nicest apartment building he had ever seen. He gripped his leather jacket tighter about himself, warding off the January chill and the unimpressed stare of the doorman. He made his way inside and to the central elevator, checking the address Legolas had texted him. He punched the button for the 17th floor, and flicked through his phone in agitation as he waited. 

They had finally stopped beating around the bush, and decided to sit down and have a conversation about a serious relationship. Gimli had been a fidgeting mess ever since, but luckily he had had Aragorn’s projects to keep him occupied. Gimli had contacted the graduate students working under him about an independent study opportunity, and before he knew it, had amassed a small army of eager architects and young environmentalists chomping at the bit to take on some green building projects. The grant proposal was just about finished on his end, and if Columbia approved it, Gimli’s team was liable to make academic headlines, not to mention the gold star it would get Aragorn. Recruiting the youth of tomorrow to help fix today’s problems? People loved that stuff. 

The elevator doors opened with a ding! and Gimli made his way down the hallway to apartment 626J. He straightened his jacket and satchel, ran a hand over his hair and beard, and rang the bell. The door opened not a second later, and Gimli blinked up at Legolas. He had never seen the other man so subdued. Legolas’ hair was up in messy ponytail, his skin was paler than average and void of any makeup. He wore a deep green hoodie about two sizes two big, and soft yoga leggings with a pair of galaxy-printed knee socks over the hems. Oddest of all, there was a bird on his shoulder, and bird in his hair. 

But Legolas’ smile was warm and genuine, despite his run-down appearance. “Hey, Gim, c’mon in.”

Gimli smiled back and moved past Legolas, who shut the door behind him. One of the birds made a beeping noise, startling Gimli. “I thought birds chirped. And screamed.”

Legolas chuckled. “Most do. My boys are zebra finches, and they prefer to beep instead. I think it’s rather polite of them.”

The bird on his head beeped again, as if to agree. Gimli smiled. “They got names?”

“Athelas is on my head, Simbelmyne is on my shoulder.”

“Really?” Gimli chuckled.

Legolas flushed. “I like my plants as much as my birds. Besides, Tweety is so 1970s. Coffee? Tea?”

Gimli bent to unlace his boots. “Coffee, if ye don’ mind.”

“Coming right up. Hey, what time are we meeting Aragorn this afternoon? For the roof thing?”

“Eh, like, 3-ish, I think.”

“Oh, good, we’ve got a while then, I’ll make half a pot.”

Legolas sashayed away into the kitchen, and a moment later he heard a coffee maker whir to life. Gimli took the moment alone to gaze around the apartment. From the entry hall he could see most of the apartment’s open floor design. It was tastefully minimalist, which suited Legolas. However, where others would have pictures or knick knacks, Legolas had plants. There were dozens in the living room alone, hanging in the window, covering the mantle, standing in the corners, framing the large birdcage that took up most of the far left corner of the room. The furniture was a soft grey, the plush carpet a delicate off-white. The soft looking throw over the back of the couch was a deep navy, as were the throw pillows. The mantle was a grey and white marble, and the other accents around the room were either gold, slate, or black, and primarily seemed to come in a careful geometric pattern. While fairly sparse, the apartment was beautiful, and exuded a calm aura. The plants made the air clean and light, and Gimli felt he relaxed in the space. 

He smiled, privately thrilled to have been allowed into what was clearly the carefully-styled sanctum Legolas retreated to every night. It felt like he’d been given a gift, an intangible, quiet gift, only made more precious by the fact that Legolas had felt no need to dress up for him. Legolas came out into the living room carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate of cheese, crackers, and biscuits. He set it down on that slate and marble coffee table. 

“Please help me eat some of the food Bard sent home with me on Christmas. I cannot possibly eat it all myself.”

Gimli chucked. “Aye, don’t have to ask me twice.” He came around to sit on the couch next to Legolas, picking up his coffee mug as he did. He hummed in pleasure as the comforting scent of the medium roast wafted up to meet him as he sipped. He paused as he swallowed. “Tha’s a lovely blend, Legolas, but I thought you didn’t drink coffee. ‘Sides your lattes. Nothin’ this dark, anyway.”

Legolas flushed a bit, but smiled as he leaned into his couch, crossing his long, long legs and sippin his tea. “I don’t. But you do. And I wanted to have something here that you’d like. So I had Tauriel text Kili.”

Gimli smiled. “You’re far too kind to me, darlin’.”

Legolas rolled his eyes fondly, but scooched closer to him on the couch. He leaned over and wrapped his free arm around Gimli’s shoulders, pulling him close. Gimli’s eyes fluttered closed as Legolas pressed his lips first against his cheek, just above his beard, then at the corner of his lips, soft and teasing, then finally against his own lips, still soft, but more sure. Gimli kissed him back, sliding his free right hand along Legolas’ jaw, then down to rest against his delicate neck. Gimli ran his thumb along the front of his throat, into the hollow dip above his collarbone, and heard Legolas hum. The kiss was slow, a comfortable dance of lips caressing lips, tongues gliding languidly. Gimli had never been one to kiss just because. There had always been a reason, another step to take, an endgame to arrive at. It was nice to just be in this moment with Legolas, to breathe. 

Of course, all moments must end. 

“Beep.”

Gimli startled, jumping back from Legolas, his heart in his throat as he swatted at his left shoulder, where something had just beeped in his ear. A more indignant beep met him, and one of the birds leapt off his shoulder and onto his knee. Legolas was laughing, unabashed and bright, but for once Gimli did not particularly care to admire it.

“A’right, a’right, tha’s enough o’ tha’.” Gimli grumbled. He set his coffee down on the table and poked the bird, trying to make it fly away. Instead, it hopped onto his finger like a perch, fixing him with beedy eyes. It beeped again. “Legolas!”

“Yes, yes, I’ve got him.” Legolas offered his own finger, and the little beast happily hopped to it. He turned to whistle, and the other one came flying out of the kitchen to land on his shoulder again. Gimli refused to be impressed. Legolas got them settled in their cage, refreshed their food, and came back to sit next to him. He must have still looked particularly put-out, because Legolas chuckled again and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re tragically cute when you’re grumpy.”

“Ah’m not grumpy.” 

“Mhm.”

They sipped their coffee and tea in comfortable silence for a bit, settling themselves for the conversation they knew was ahead. After Gimli had drained his cup, and Legolas was about halfway through his tea, they both took a steadying breath in. 

Legolas started. “So, let's not beat around the bush. I really want to be with you. Officially, formally, whatever you want to call it. Boyfriends, partners, anything. I just-,” he swallowed, and fiddled with the tea tag draped over the rim of the mug. “I just want it to be you.”

Gimli smiled softly. “Aye, I want the same thing.”

Legolas met his eyes, and Gimli saw a nervous smile tugging at his mouth. “But…?”

Gimli sighed. “No but, just a lot of, eh, addendums, I guess.”

“Ooh, addendums.” Legolas wiggled his eyebrows and Gimli snorted. “Well, where should we start?”

“Ah’ve got no idea.”

Legolas’ eyes darted away to the far wall, then down to his hands. As the silence dragged on, Gimli watched his fidgeting become worse, until he thought Legolas was about to start pacing. He reached over and grabbed Legolas’ hand, clasping it in his. “Seems you’ve got some idea.”

“I- it’s not exactly, um, easy to talk about. Any of it.”

“Any of what, exactly?”

“Any of me, really, for lack of better phrasing,” Legolas swallowed, and looked away. “Gimli, there’s so much to say, to tell you, but, I- I can’t, I don’t, I-,” he cut himself off, breathing heavily. 

“Take your time, lad. You can tell me anything, I mean it.”

“I know,” he nodded forcefully, still looking anywhere but at him. “I just don’t want to screw this up before it even starts. I always screw everything up. But this, us, what we could be-” he finally met Gimli’s eyes, and his heart stuttered to see tears gathering in Legolas’ eyes. “Gimli, before I say any of what I have to, I need you to know something. So that we’re on the same level, and if we’re not, so that we can walk away.”

Gimli already knew there was a zero percent chance of him walking away from the tempest in front of him, but he nodded. “Go on then.” 

Legolas put his tea mug down and grabbed Gimli’s hands in his. “I have never felt like this before. In any relationship with any guy. And there haven’t been many, I don’t really do relationships. I never had a reason to before. I cruised around, I slept with whoever, I moved on. I’d go to dinner here or there, rub elbows for whatever reason I had to. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want any of it anymore. I was getting tired already, before I met you, and now-,” he brought Gimli’s hands to his lips, and kissed them softly, holding them against his face for a second. “Now, I just want you. I don’t want to date around and find the one, or whatever. I want to see where this goes, and see it to whatever end it’s going to find. This is it, for me, at this point. I’m choosing this, and you, no more one night stands and shitty dive bars. If that’s too much pressure, or too much anything, please tell me now before it gets messy. “

Gimli had to swallow the lump in his throat. For all of Legolas’ pomp and flounce, he could now understand why millions of people around the world listened to him. When he had something to say, he was a gilded poet. Gimli pressed through the pressure in his throat and behind his eyes. “I feel the same as you, Legolas. I really do. I don’t want anything else right now, and truthfully, I can’t see myself wanting anything else any time soon. Any time ever, probably. I’ve found something I didn’t know I was looking for here, with you. It’s never been like this before for me either. I had the occasional date here or there, a boyfriend or two a long time ago, but it was mostly just me, and whoever I wanted to bring home on the odd Friday I wasn’t cooped up in my dorm, or in the draft lab. I never needed or wanted more. But now, with more staring me right in the face, with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen-,” Legolas kissed his hands again, his chuckle more than watery. “I can’t see myself ever going back. I don’t want to go back. I want you. This. Us.”

Legolas pulled him forward into a close embrace, and buried his head into the crook of Gimli’s neck. Gimli held him tightly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his ear. Legolas sniffled, and he heard him mutter, “There’s no way I’m this lucky.”

“Aye, well, believe it, darlin’. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Legolas pulled back, running his middle finger tip under his eyes carefully. “We’re not out of the woods yet, I’m afraid.”

Gimli nodded, and refused to beat around the bush. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Legolas took a deep breath. “There are a lot of things you deserve to know about me. And they’re not very easy to hear, and they’re even harder to say, so, this may take me a minute. God, I have no idea where to start.” He pushed a hand through his hair, and grabbed a throw pillow to hug against his stomach. Gimli noted the movement as Legolas putting something between the two of them, a barrier. A shield.

He was terrified to talk about this.

Legolas took a deep breath. “My mother died when I was young. Really young. Tauriel was little more than a baby. Maybe just a toddler, barely. She was sick, Father says, but we’ve never discussed with what. I was so little, I don’t remember her at all, really. Some moments, I think I remember little things, but they’re so vague that it’s possible my mind just dreamed them up,” he sighed, picking at a fingernail. “So, growing up, it was just the three of us, kind of. It was really more just me and Taur. After Maman died, Father threw himself into his work. He never came home before we were in bed, and he was up and gone before we were awake most days. We had au pairs, nannies, you know. But no Father, not really.”

Gimli’s chest felt squeezed by a phantom hand. He reached out and settled a hand on Legolas’ knee. “That sounds terribly lonely.”

Legolas nodded, his jaw clenched. “It was. I missed Father so much it hurt some days, and nothing I did or didn’t do made him come back. Tauriel started acting out when she was about 11, so for a few years, I stayed busy keeping her out of any serious trouble. At that point the hurt was kind of faded, and I was just apathetic at best. When I was graduating high school, Tauriel and Father had a huge fight. Tauriel isn’t like me and Father. She runs hot, and can get really, really mad. Father says she’s a lot like Maman in that way. Passionate. But, anyway, after that, he started coming home again. Shortly after, he offered me a promotion.”

Gimli blinked. Legolas couldn’t have been older than 18, how would he have been in place for a promotion. “What?”

Legolas nodded, but it wasn’t happy. “Yep. I started modelling with Oscar around 15, and then Father asked if I wanted to take on a business position. I said yes, because at that point, anything was better than modelling full time.”

“I thought you liked modelling?”

Legolas snorted. “I’m good at modelling. No one likes modelling. Not really. It destroys people, deep inside. Or at least, it destroyed me,” he took a steadying breath, looking over Gimli’s shoulder again. “My father thought that letting me model would be good for me. So did I, but hey, I was just a stupid kid. He thought it would be a fun hobby. And for the first few months, it was. But, then, at my first afterparty when I was 16, everything got very real very fast. It was like prying open a beautiful diamond treasure chest, and finding it filled toxic waste and dog hair. I, um, fortunately don’t remember much from that night. I do remember drinking myself blind, though.”

Gimli gaped. “And you were how old? 16? By god, Legolas-”

He chuckled ruefully. “Oh it gets worse. I got drunk because the executive men kept buying me drinks. I think one slipped me something but I’ll never know. I remember their smiles, their creeping hands. I can’t remember how many of them groped me. I just remember not being able to move my hands to get them to stop. No one did anything more than that, but still. Y’know. I don’t remember the middle few hours, but I remember leaving. Arwen Peredhel found me in the girls’ bathroom. I was trying to puke but I couldn’t. Some girl told me it would help, but I think she was probably talking me into trying bulimia. Another huge issue in the modelling industry. Anyway, Arwen found me, I’d lost my phone, I was crying I think. She and her grandmother, Galadriel, took me back to their place in Manhattan, and made me drink water until I was sober the next morning. I told Galadriel everything, Arwen too, but I never told Tauriel or my Father. And after that, everything went downhill for me mentally.”

Gimli knew he was crying, it registered vaguely in the back of his mind. He made no move to wipe his tears away. “Thank god for Arwen. What in the hell was your father thinking, letting you go, Legolas?”

He shrugged desolately. “I dunno. I never asked. Looking back, I guess he wanted me to get along with and fit in with the other models. He didn’t want me to be held apart because he ran the branch. Which I get, in a way. Not to mention, he was never a model. He had no idea what was going on behind the scenes. I never blamed him, not really. There’s plenty of other stuff to blame him for.”

Gimli silently disagreed, but didn’t press the matter. “I know that ‘sorry’ is an empty word most times, with assault, but I truly am appalled and heartbroken that that happened to you.”

Legolas smiled wanly. “And from you, I believe it,” he took a deep breath. “So, after that night, I spiralled very badly. I became very depressed, more anxious than ever to be in crowds or at parties, though that faded within the year. The depression didn’t though. It just kept getting worse. I lost days, weeks, lying in bed, or in my dorm at the boarding school. I stopped trying in half my classes. I just, stopped altogether, really. Until-,”

Gimli held his breath and gripped Legolas’ knee. He didn’t like where this was going, and the tears forming in Legolas’ eyes brought him no comfort.

“One day, I was out jogging in the woods. I was on the cross country team that year, and running and hiking have always comforted me. I was out on the trail, and I was dissociating really badly and regularly that week, I remember. Hours would fly by and it would feel like I’d just blinked. So, I was running, and, um, I got to this cliff, and there was a river about twenty feet down, going really fast. All of a sudden, everything seemed so, I don’t know, finite? Pointless? Easily resolved, maybe? If I just took three steps, I’d never have to worry about creepy men, or what I ate, or being gay, or smart, or anything at all. I took two steps, and then I stopped.”

Gimli held his breath, though obviously the story didn’t end in suicide. 

Legolas swallowed. “I figured that was the end, but I still had one more bone to pick with the world. I called my father. I told myself it was because I wanted him to know how much he hurt me. I wanted to leave him alone with his pain like he left me. That’s what I said to myself as I dialed him up. But really,” Legolas sniffled, clearly struggling to keep his voice from wavering. “I think I was scared, and hopeless, and so confused. And deep down, some stupid, stupid, naive part of me wanted my dad to pick up, and make it all better, just like I used to think he could. And for once, he pulled through. He picked up, and I didn’t exactly tell him what I was going to do, or why I called. I just very calmly told him he’d treated me and Tauriel very unfairly, and that putting his work first was the shittiest thing he’d ever done. I told him I wanted him to know that I was hurt, and that I thought he was a very poor father, and that once I graduated school, I never wanted to see him again, so he might as well disown me then and there, because it wouldn’t matter. I just kept repeating that, that nothing mattered anymore. He must have realized I wasn’t okay, or that I wasn’t safe. He listened to everything I had to say, and then he told me that I was right, and that he had treated us very poorly, and that he was sorry, even though just saying it didn’t mean anything. And then he asked me if he could pick me up early from school that week, and take me up to the lakehouse for archery and some hiking. And I said yes, and that was that. I walked away. I never told my dad where I was, or what I was about to do, and he never asked, but I like to think he realized that he was about to lose me in one way or another. That's why, when Tauriel finally snapped, something clicked back into place for him, and found a way to get me out.”

Legolas took a steadying breath in, but it was more of a sob. “I never got better, though, Gimli. That’s why I’m telling you this. I’m on antidepressants, but I can’t see a therapist regularly, I’ve never been able to get myself to go. And some days,” he sobbed. “Some days are better than others, I won’t lie. Somedays I wake up, and I should be happy because I have so much that others don’t. I have a family, and it gets a little better every day. I have money and a job, and fucking fans and viewers and shit people would kill for and it all means nothing to me some days. There are morning I can’t get out of bed, where I skip my pills. And there are days and weeks where I really don’t care about being alive, not at all,” he was openly crying now, and Gimli couldn’t take it anymore. He bridged the distance and pulled Legolas into a bear hug, cradling him against his chest. His voice was muffled my Gimli’s beard, but he heard it all the same. “I’ve never attempted again, but it’s not like I’ve tried in the other direction either. I’m just a broken fuck-up, with no reason to be depressed, who’s stupid and ruins everything he touches and-”

“Enough,” Gimli growled in his ear, shaking Legolas’ shoulders a bit. “Tha’s enough. Don’t you ever say those words again. They’re lies, and I’ll not have ye bein’ cruel to yerself.” 

Legolas nodded, and seemed to finally be out of things to say. Gimli held him, and attempted to process everything he’d just been told. 

His heart, his faith in humanity, felt ripped to shreds. Here was the most beautiful soul he had ever met, who he was going to be lucky enough to call his, being laid bare. This beautiful, fey man who the world had chewed up, spit on, and thrown away, only to routinely return to step on it just for shits and giggles. Gimli burned with rage at the injustice of it all, and despaired to see Legolas so accepting, so accustomed and fine with the heaping plate of dog shite he’d been handed by life. 

Part of Gimli wanted to march down to Thranduil’s office and tell him exactly what he thought of his parenting style. The other part of him wanted to go find Haldir, and any other creep-ass executive who had ever laid a finger on the poor child Legolas had once been, alone in more ways than he knew how to understand. Another part of him wanted to go pledge eternal fealty and gratitude to Arwen and Galadriel for saving Legolas. So many thoughts popped into his head, desires and wishes that would never bear fruit. 

But mostly, he wanted to hold his partner, because that’s who Legolas was to him now, his equal in heart and soul and esteem, and never ever let anyone hurt him again. Including his own self. Legolas’ self esteem issues clearly ran more toward the self-loathing side. His clinical depression needed handling, and he needed to talk with someone soon about his suicidal thoughts and ideations. But more than any of that, maybe, he needed a friend. A confidante. A shoulder, a shield, a hug, a refuge, and more. So much more. 

And Gimli knew then that he wanted to be all of it. For as long as Legolas would let him, would need him, he would be there.

He pulled the blond’s shoulders a bit to get him to sit up. His face was blotchy and red, his loose hairs plastered to his tear slicked cheeks, his nose running. He was breathing in hiccups and tiny gasps. He was beautiful.

“Is this why you looked so anxious when you answered the door?”

Legolas nodded. 

“Can I ask you something and have you answer me honestly? It’s very important.”

Another, firmer nod. 

“What do you expect to happen next?”

Legolas gnawed on his lower lip as he thought. “I would expect you to very politely clean up the coffee mugs because you hate unnecessary mess, as you say, and then make sure I have water and tissues, and then leave. And then you’d text me later, thanking me for being honest, but saying it won’t work, and then we won’t see each other anymore. Not like this.” He shrugged, a helpless, self-deprecating smile gracing his lips. 

Gimli thought as much. “Well darlin’, for all I say yer much smarter than you realize, I am afraid tha’s not the case this time. I am going to clean up the coffee mugs and get tissues though, because we both look a bit drowned.”

Gimli rose to do as he said, leaving Legolas looking lost and confused on the couch. Gimli padded into the kitchen. As he left, he heard the bird cage door open, and some soft bird beeping follow him. He smiled to himself. He still wasn’t sure where he stood with the little beasties, but if they brought Legolas comfort, then he approved. He deposited the dishes in the sink, giving the mugs and plate a cursory rinse so nothing crusted or congealed. He then scanned the counter for what he was really looking for. The counter was fairly spotless, but most people kept them tucked away just so- aha! 

Gimli grabbed up the pill bottle and made his way back into the living room. Legolas was whistling softly to the bird- Simba-something?- on his finger while the other made soft noises in his hair. 

He sat down softly. “How do you get them to not shit on you and everywhere else?”

Legolas chuckled, watery as it was. “I don’t let them stay out for very long, and besides, they’re toilet trained, believe it or not.”

“I firmly believe you can do anything at this point, so sure,” Legolas fixed him with a bemused stare. “What? S’true.”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s the honest truth. Speaking of which, will you be honest with me if I ask you a personal question?”

Legolas nodded. “I trust you completely, Gimli. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt your integrity. You’re a good person.”

“Aye, and so are you. Now, tell me,” he pulled the pill bottle out from where it was resting near his thigh. “How often are you supposed to take these?”

“Regularly. Once a day in the morning.”

“Have you taken today’s?”

“Yes. Right before you came over.”

Gimli searched his gaze, but saw no lie. He nodded. “Good. I need you to keep taking these, especially when you don’t want to, or feel like you don’t need to. And then, I need you to shop for a therapist,” he held a hand up to stop the protestations that Legolas had opened his mouth to say. “Legolas, this is not up for debate. I need you to do this for yourself, and if that’s not a reason you like, would you be willing to do it for me? Just for now?”

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, but nodded. He blinked them open a moment later, tears reforming along the rims. “I don’t want to be some broken, crazy, basket case who needs to see a therapist to even get through a day. I don’t want to be that person.”

Gimli snorted. “You won’t be, trust me. I’ve seen a counselor on and off for years.”

Legolas gaze whipped to his. “I’m sorry, Gimli, I didn’t mean-”

“Ach, nae, hush now. I felt the same way you did. I was younger, angrier. My uncle Thorin made me start going after I punched through a glass display case in his shop in a fit of rage. I was hurting so badly inside, and I never realized. I’ve never been on medication, so you need to see a psychiatrist instead of a psychologist or counselor, but I promise you, Legolas, I promise on my own life, you will feel better. And, the more you work through, the fewer pills you can take. I won’t promise you that you’ll ever be able to leave them forever. I’m not that kind of doctor, and everyone’s brain chemistry is different. But I can promise that talking helps.”

Legolas nodded, his gaze fixed on the bird in his hand. Gimli sighed.

“And another thing, a very important thing. Just because I want you to see a therapist, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to tell me what’s ailing you, or feel that you can’t also talk to me,” he reached out to hold Legolas’ hand, and tried not to flinch when the tiny bird hopped onto his large knuckle. “I want to be the first one you come to, I want you to talk to me. I want to be your shoulder to cry on, your confidante. Your person.”

Legolas sniffed. “My partner?” 

It damn near broke Gimli’s heart to hear Legolas so tentatively hopeful. “Aye, Legolas, if tha's what ye wanna call it. Your partner.”

Legolas turned to him fully, and smiled. It was fragile, and small, but so genuine and excited nonetheless. “It is. I want that. I want you, Gimli. I want to try for you, and maybe, someday, I can try for me, too.”

They leaned in, and when Gimli’s lips met his partner’s, his heart soared in a way he’d never felt before. But instead of being scared, or feeling overwhelmed, he felt invigorated, and loved. He hoped Legolas felt the same. He vowed to make sure he did, in this moment, and in every moment that followed. 

They pulled apart a scant inch, sharing breath and locking gazes. Gimli spoke softly, reverently. “Ah’ve no intention of leaving you, Legolas, not now, and probably not ever. I told you, this is it for me too, as far as I’m concerned. Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You’re so strong, stronger than most. I’m lucky to know you.”

Legolas sniffed. “Please stop making me cry, my eyes are going to be so puffy.”

Gimli chuckled and leaned in to place another kiss on damp lips. “And you’ll still be breathtaking. I guarantee it.”

“See if you’re still saying that in half an hour. What time is it- oh shit, Gimli we have to leave in an hour.”

Gimli turned to look at the minimalist clock on the mantle. Sure enough, two hours had passed, and it was a smidge after 1. He sighed, and stole one more kiss. 

“Why don’t you go take a shower? You’ll feel better after. Do you want more tea?”

Legolas was staring at him. “I’m dating an angel, it’s official.”

Gimli flushed. “Ah’m no angel, lad. Now get tae.”

Legolas wiggled his eyebrows. “Joining me?”

“I thought we just established we have to be somewhere soon.”

“Ugh, you’re so lame, Professor Durinson.”

Gimli laughed, and rose with Legolas from the couch. He opened the birdcage for the little guys, and was thanked with hearty beeps. Gimli had to privately admit they were pretty cute birds. Legolas was heading toward where Gimli assumed his room was, already peeling off his giant hoodie. 

“How public am I supposed to be making this little pow-wow?” He called from down the hall. Gimli shrugged to himself as he turned on the kettle, then called back.”

“Dunno, darlin’. I think it’s just the three of us, today, and Arwen. We’re planning the first rally, and I think Aragorn wants to know about the grant and students. I think the rally and the drafting and field sessions with the research teams are the first huge videos and posts he wants. But maybe some tweets? Casual instagram posts? Something to hint at a bigger project, I guess.”

He heard Legolas exasperated shrug in his voice as he hollered back. “Y’know, Aragorn really has to get more specific with these plans of his. I feel lost about eighty percent of the time.”

Gimli agreed, but kept it to himself as he heard the shower turn on. The tea was perfectly steeped and he was pouring it into two ceramic Starbucks travel mugs when Legolas reappeared. He looked much more refreshed, his hair plaited in his everyday fishtail braid, though his eyes were still puffier than normal. His nose was probably still red as well, but Legolas had put on his usual light makeup. He picked up one mug, took a careful sip, and smiled.

“Parfait, mon chou. Merci.” Legolas bent to kiss him in thanks, and Gimli hummed happily. Legolas bustled around his apartment for another minute, grabbing bits and bobs and tossing them in a canvas bag he grabbed from a hall closet. Gimli grabbed his jacket off the hook, slipping it on before lacing his boots up. Legolas grabbed a double breasted beige trench coat and draping it over his shoulders. He slipped into black leather cuban heels and grabbed his keys. “Ready?”

“Aye, darlin’.”

Legolas grinned and opened the door for him, snatching sunglasses off the entry hall shelf as an afterthought. Gimli checked his phone for any missed calls or texts as Legolas locked his door, sipping his tea. Kili had posted a picture of himself studying at some cafe with another person, who was out of shot. Legolas put his arm around Gimli’s shoulder like he had at the craft show, and Gimli wound his arm around his lithe waist in return. He turned his phone to show Legolas the picture.

“Oh, he’s with Tauriel again.”

Gimli blinked. “What? How can you tell, there’s no part of her in the picture.”

“Is too, look at the hands. We went to get a manicure on New Year’s Day, see her nails? French tips. And I know that’s her macbook because it’s got the unicorn sticker Tilda gave her in the corner. And that binder is the most hideous shade of yellow, and it keeps winding up at my apartment. She’s not slick. Like the post, leave eye emojis in the comments.”

Gimli was chortled. “Yer not a half bad detective, there.”

“I love Criminal Minds. Derek Morgan is a dish.”

“Got tha’ right.”

They made their way down the building and out into the January air, brisk but not as cold as other years. To be honest, it was a perfect day for a walk. Clearly, he was not alone in that idea; not a second later both their phones pinged. 

Gimli fished his back out of his pocket, scanned the text, and spun them around to head in the opposite direction. 

“Change of plans, darlin’. Aragorn says meet him at the park.”

“Oh? More plans we aren’t yet privy to?

“Not so much. We have to go talk to the police and safety teams about the rally. Aragorn just pushed it up to this weekend.”

Legolas groaned. “How considerate of him. Guess I’ll cancel my facial.”

Gimli chuckled, but found himself fighting a knot of apprehension. Aragorn was pushing this all very quickly. Too quickly, maybe. He wasn’t sure what their friend had planned, but he prayed to anyone listening that Aragorn still knew what he was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more actual plot next time. I hope you all found that to be in character and not overly dramatic. as always, thank you all so much for the support and kind words and kudos and everything. it all means, just, so much to me. thank you.


	11. Upping the Ante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Gimli walk into a war meeting ft some old friends and new faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot thank y'all enough for your responses to last chapter. Your comments touched my heart and soul, and I want to reiterate that none of you are ever alone, and that I mean it when I say my tumblr is always open. I'd love to talk to you so please always reach out! I'd also like to drop these:  
1-800-273-8255 (National Suicide Prevention Hotline)  
and  
https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines (List of International Suicide Hotlines)
> 
> Please, if any of you ever feel like you need to call these numbers, never hesitate. Help and love are out there, and it's better to be safe than not. I love each and every one of you, because you're all amazing people. Thank you for taking the time to read my fic, please always take the time to care for yourselves, and one another.

CHPT 11

Legolas’ mind was racing as he strode across the city, Gimli keeping pace beside him. The morning had been a whirlwind of emotional conversation and mental struggles. Had he planned on airing all that this morning? Not in the least. But something about Gimli, his assurances, his steadfast understanding and patience, had had all of his secrets tumbling out of him. 

If the architecture professor thing ever fell through, his partner would make a hell of a counselor.

Partner. Just thinking the word made Legolas giddy, and he bit back a shameless grin. You never knew who was watching, after all, and his father had trained him well in outward emotional neutrality. Still, nothing could stem the tiny little smirk tugging at him, and his sunglasses hid eighty percent of his face anyway. He’d be fine. 

Gimli’s hand on his arm pulled him from his thoughts, and they pivoted to dash across the street before the light changed. They ran with as much speed as they could gain in the throng of park goers, and made their way up the street to Central. They reached the correct entrance in record time.

“Where are we meeting him?” Legolas checked his phone.

Gimli pulled his own out. “Um, by the reservoir.”

“Do I have time for to grab a latte from that little cart?”

Gimli consulted his phone and grimaced. “It would make us a few minutes late.”

Legolas smirked. “Perfectly fashionable of us. C’mon, I’ll buy.”

And so, overpriced London Fog latte and Nitro Brew in hand, they ambled down the path to Aragorn’s meeting spot. As they approached, it was clear to see that plans had changed drastically, as there were at least six other people standing around with Aragorn. Two of them were distinct, at least to Legolas.

He held up a hand in greeting, but muttered to Gimli. “Why the hell is my step-father here? And since when was Arwen back from Austria?”

Gimli shrugged, lifting his drink in a vague greeting, nodding to Aragorn as they approached. Aragorn nodded back, but Arwen broke from the crowd to meet them. She caught Legolas in a tight hug, bussing his cheek motherly. Legolas blushed and grinned, and caught Gimli smiling at him over Arwen’s shoulder.

She drew back just enough to look him up and down, but kept her hands on his upper arms. “It’s so good to see you, Legolas. You were always on my mind in Austria, I have so many gifts for you. And look at you, you look stunning! Still with your father?”

Legolas nodded, grinning unabashedly. It had been so long since he’d seen his friend. “I am, yes. Oscar is still Oscar, always more work to be done. Tauriel has been asking about you, give her a ring soon. And Arwen, really, you shouldn’t have.”

She waved a hand, removing her arms. “Oh, hush, it’s the least I can do after you found my that gorgeous Hermes piece, really. And you must be Gimli,” she turned to Gimli, holding out her hand for him to shake, which he did happily. “I’ve heard so much about you and your incredible work from Aragorn. I read some of your papers myself, but much of it went over my head. I’d love to sit with you some time, I have so many questions.”

Gimli looked impressed and shocked all at once, and Legolas smothered a grin. Arwen was a professional socialite, a true conversationalist. Not once has he ever seen her without some poignant question, a leading comment, ready to have a truly interesting discussion with anyone and everyone. 

Gimli recovered beautifully. “The pleasure would be all mine, lass. Just tell your loon of a fiance to give me a break some time and I’d love to grab a cuppa.”

Arwen laughed, rich and genuine, and Legolas swore he saw heads turn around the park. “It’s a deal Dr. Durinson. I’ll start planning our rendezvous immediately.”

As they conversed, Legolas caught Bard’s eye and gestured to him. Aragorn was still deep in conversation with a shaggy strawberry-blond man in a crisp suit, so he figured he had a few minutes. Bard approached with his usual relaxed gate. 

“Hello, Bard, what are you up to down here?” Legolas leaned in for a hug, which Bard returned happily. Legolas mused that maybe some young men would have awkward relationships with the step-fathers they gained well into adulthood, but he couldn’t relate. 

“Always good to see you, Leg. I’m here doing a favor for my buddy in FDNY.”

Legolas nodded. Before he had become a full-time photographer, Bard was a firefighter with FDNY. However, he still did the occasional stint as a volunteer for bigger events where they needed men on standby. Bard claimed he had to retire because it was wearing too hard on his body, which Legolas could easily believe. Bard was in his late 40s, but some days he moved like he was at least 65. He made a mental note to give him the number of his massage therapist and chiropractor before he tuned back in. 

He smiled. “How you find the time to be so helpful to everyone who needs you is beyond me, Bard. So, what’s the low down? Suit-man over there doesn’t look too thrilled.”

Bard grimaced and gazed back at the group. “No one is, to be honest. Aragorn told the council next weekend, and now out of nowhere he wants to push it up? We’re going to be scrambling. I think they’re trying to reason with him now, see what can be done and all that.”

Legolas hummed and sipped his latte. “Classic Aragorn.”

Bard hummed back, before pausing. “Wait a minute. Why are you here? And who’s that?” He gestured to Gimli, still talking to Arwen behind Legolas.

Carefully, Legolas put together the most neutral response he could. “Aragorn said he needed a favor. Not sure what, he kept it very vague. I’m waiting for a free moment so I can see what’s up. And that’s our friend, Gimli Durinson. He’s a professor or architecture at Columbia. Aragorn wanted his help with some environmental stuff so he came over from the university.”

Bard nodded, but his eyes were picking Legolas’ words and body language apart like only a seasoned father could. He hoped he wasn’t sweating. “And you showed up together?”

'Oh, fuck me', Legolas thought acerbically before he spoke. “Uh, yeah we ran into each other on the train. I’ve met him a couple times before, through Aragorn.”

“The train?”

“Yeah?” 

“Funny, that,” Bard was smirking like a cat who had cornered a mouse. “Because Columbia is Northwest of us, and about a five minute walk, you live about 10 minutes Northeast. So, either you were together prior to this, or you’re lying about your whereabouts, young man, because neither of you had reason to take a train.”

Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit.”

“Two kids under fifteen and my workaholic husband keep me on my toes. So, out with it, boyo.”

Legolas groaned. “It’s new, okay?” He pushed his sunglasses up his face to meet Bard’s eyes, doing his best to convey how sensitive everything still was. “I haven’t told father, Tauriel barely knows. We just made things official, like, today. Please, don’t say a work to my father, or anyone. Not yet. I’m going to tell everyone, believe me,” he shrugged helplessly. “Truth be told, I want to shout it from the rooftops. He’s- he’s just amazing, Bard really. But everything is a little tense right now, and I just want to wait for everything to settle back. I’ve got a lot on my plate with work and stuff, and who knows what Aragorn wants-”

Bard held up his hands. “Relax, Legs, relax. I won’t say a word to Thran, I promise. This is your news, and your life. You’re an adult. I trust you know how to make the decision that’s right for you.”

Legolas nodded, and accepted the hug Bard offered. “Thanks, Bard. You’re like, the best bonus dad ever.”

Bard chuckled. “I do my best,” they pulled back, and he glanced behind Legolas. “He’s cute, too. I think you guys look great together. You seemed so happy walking over, I had my suspicions before you ever screwed up your geography.”

Legolas snorted. “Your dad-sense is uncanny.”

He grinned. “My gaydar isn’t bad either, and you two are about as subtle as a gun.”

Legolas flipped his hair. “Says you. You act like I don’t know exactly every time you visit Father at the office. If I’m as subtle as a gun, you two are a neon sign with rainbow sparklers all over the place.”

Bard laughed. “Aye, you’re probably right about that. But enough about me. It looks like Aragorn is ready to storm away from that whole situation.”

Legolas glanced over, and sure enough, Aragorn and the man in the suit seemed second away from yelling, or blows. He caught Gimli’s eye, and saw the same worry reflected. Together, they moved to stand beside Aragorn, unsure of what to do to help but ready to offer assistance. 

Gimli cleared his throat as they approached. “Afternoon, Aragorn. What’s all this about?”

Legolas kept silent but moved closer still to Gimli and his friend. He had no idea who this stranger was or what he wanted, but they’d meet it together. 

Aragorn turned to them and was clearly fighting to keep his voice even and peaceful as he spoke. “Legolas, Gimli, good. I’d like you both to meet Boromir Gondorin.”

Legolas realized suddenly where he’d seen the man before. He was the mayor’s son, and they had run into each other a few times at different social events for the city. Boromir seemed to vaguely recognize him as well, and held out a hand. 

“Legolas Lasgalen, if I’m not mistaken? It’s good to actually meet you.” Legolas took the proffered hand. He was certainly a politician; genial countenance, vague smile, nonthreatening yet engaged body language. Legolas knew the type. 

He shook Gimli’s hand next, and something not-quite unkind, yet mildly judgmental flicked through his eyes. Legolas felt his hackles rising, but kept quiet. He usually preferred to keep silent, to listen and wait in delicate conversational matters. “Pardon me, we’ve never met before Mr. …?”

Gimli spoke evenly, but his tone was clipped. “Dr. Gimli Durinson. I’m a professor over at Columbia when I’m not working with Aragorn. You’re Boromir, if I’m not mistaken?”

Boromir smiled, still genial but somewhat sharper now. “You’re correct, sir. Well, Aragorn, you have very impressive friends. But the answer is still no.”

Legolas grimaced. “Why exactly?”

Boromir glanced at him, his gaze dismissive. Good, Legolas could work with that. “The park is booked up for weekend, at notice this short we can’t spare the fire and safety coverage for an event as large as this promises to be-” was that a hint of disdain in his voice? Legolas frowned. “Listen, Mr. Lasgalen, we all agreed on the next weekend, I don’t see what the issue is. You’re all free to do whatever you want next Saturday, per the prior agreement.”

Legolas hummed. “Well, let’s just see about that,” he pulled out his phone. “The park’s weekend event schedule is public knowledge, right? So, if I just google it…” he trailed off, digging for the correct forms, which took all of two minutes. “And here we go, the events by park sector, date, times, etcetera-” he flicked through, looking for a gap. There was no way the park was booked for outdoor events late January. And, lo and behold- “Well, Boromir, you may want to recheck your information. There’s an open four hour block this Friday from 3-7, and another five hour block Saturday from noon to five. So.” He offered him a raised eyebrow, carefully putting forth an image of blasé disinterest.

Aragorn was smirking, and Gimli was regarding him with undisguised amusement and affection. He refused to preen or blush; the chess game was still on, after all. Boromir was just barely scowling. “Well, as serendipitous as that is, there’s still the issue of booking. Aragorn already has the next weekend booked, and we don’t allow double bookings in the off season.”

Gimli snorted. “Of course ye don’t.”

Aragorn had finally had enough. “Bo! What is your problem? You’re my friend. Why are you so determined to fight me on this?”

Boromir finally had the grace to look somewhat abashed, though not necessarily guilty. “Aragorn, you know my hands are tied.”

Gimli cleared his throat. “Would either of you like to explain jus’ what the hell is going on? Aragorn, you know we’ve got your back, but why do you need to move the rally? We’re gonna be scrambling to get the turnout with the pushed date now.”

Legolas shifted. “Not if I get in front of it, like, now. But I need a reason.”

Aragorn turned to them. “I’ve got a couple of plants in DuMonte and from what they’ve explained to me, they were cleared to start clear cutting by mid February. I want to get as many rallies in as we can, and I need you, Leg, to up the coverage. Double it. Triple it. Get people screaming about this, not just talking. We need a spotlight on them by Valentines Day or we’ve lost.”

Legolas nodded, already opening the notes app on his phone. Without looking up, he addressed Boromir. “So what’s your damage? Got something to gain from these assholes clearing half the park for more greenhouse gas emitting factories? Stock in DuMonte? Personal vendetta against biodiversity? Give us the hot gossip, Bo.”

Gimli was chuckling next to him. Legolas slid a couple of inches closer to him, reveling in his partner’s warm laughter. Aragorn spared them a brief once over, but apparently elected to gloss past them for now. Legolas was privately relieved. Telling Bard had been enough for one day. He and Gimli were so new, he felt that telling so many people so soon was to allow everyone in on their privacy. Theirs was still a fledgling affection, a new spring. He wanted their relationship to grow some feathers before he launched it out of the nest. 

He shook his head and reoriented himself on his task. Lists, lists, he needed lists. First, his twitter. He’d need to start sending out as many threads and feelers as he could. Maybe Ellen-

'Hold up. Pause and take a breath, Legolas, you aren't done here', he chided himself.

Boromir was glaring at him. He glanced up, arching a freshly threaded brow. “Yeah?”

“For your information, Lasgalen, I don’t want this to happen. But there’s more red tape around this than any of you can imagine. If my father knew we were even meeting, he’d-”

Legolas snorted. “What? Ground you? Boromir, all due respect, but you’re an adult, and one with his own political office if I’m not mistaken, right? You work for the governor. Technically, you outrank your dad.”

Aragorn took over. “Bo, you are your own man. Let your father put his money and support where he wants, but don’t follow him just because he says you have to. We have the chance to make history, to do the right thing. But we need you. Not your dad; you.”

Boromir looked conflicted for a moment, but it was quickly replaced by cold disdain. “Take both dates. I don’t care what you do, Elessar. I won’t stand in your way. But I won’t help you either. You chose this path, and it is yours to walk. I’ll be in touch.” He spared Gimli and Legolas a brief glance before he strode off. Two of the men standing around followed him. Gimli turned to Aragorn.

“What was that all about, Aragorn?”

Aragorn sighed. “Bo is an old friend, we went to college together. He studied poli-sci and law, I studied earth science and environmental law. His father is the mayor, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. Their whole family has climbed to the top of the political ladder here in the city by remaining carefully neutral on all the right topics, including manufacturing growth and environmental policy,” he gestured them in closer, glancing around for anyone listening in before continuing in a low voice. “But recently, I’ve come to believe that DuMonte has the mayor in their pocket. They bought him, and I’m not really sure how. And Boromir, for all his intelligence and kindness, follows his father to a fault. Denethor says jump, Boromir says off which building. I can’t wrestle him from his dad’s side, and I’m afraid to try too hard,” Legolas gulped, all too aware of Aragorn looking at him. How many times a day was he going to be made to feel like the poster child for Daddy Issues. “Having Boromir on our side could give us a whole new realm of legitimacy. If this issue goes to court, or rather,” he paused, looking a bit guilty. “Most likely, when this issue goes to court, we’re going to need him to help. For now though, we have to assume that whatever we tell him or anyone around him, is going right to Denethor. Which we can’t afford right now.”

Legolas was reeling, but he nodded. “So, we’ll just have to be very careful about how we’re communicating plans and ideas. Only make public what is already public knowledge. Rallies, drives, green building meetings, public forums and meetings, all that,” he blinked. “Wow, yeah, okay I gotta get the jump on this. I’m gonna need to stop and get a whole new weekly planner.” 

Gimli was pinching his lower lip between his forefinger and thumb, brow deeply furrowed in thought. “I’ll need to start sending out emails within the next hour. I’ll reschedule the grad student on-site evaluation, and offer them extra credit for the rally.”

Legolas flicked over to his messages app. “I’ll text Tauriel. She and Kili can spread the word to the environmental club and the student government, see what can be done. By the way, she wants to get tapas with us soon.”

Gimli nodded, now flicking through his own phone. “Find a date, I’ll make time.”

“Ta. Let’s say next week.”

Aragorn was looking between them like they’d both turned purple and started speaking backwards. Arwen and Bard chose that moment to saunter over. Bard regarded Legolas oddly, as though seeing him for the first time with a new haircut. 

“Legolas, a word.” 

Uh-oh. That was a Dad Voice if he’d ever heard one. He moved off from the group to speak with him.

Bard was staring at him very intently. “Legolas, I’m not sure exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you know your father will not approve, right? That he can’t really approve, I mean.”

Legolas nodded though the stinging hurt that lanced through his chest as his fears were all but confirmed. “I know. I’ve thought this out. I have to do this Bard. I can’t expect you to understand, not when I barely understand. But, I just, I-,” he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I want to do this. They need me, and I need me to as well.”

Bard clasped his shoulder, tight and fatherly, concern and pride warring in his gaze. “I get it, Legs. I do. And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I’ve never seen you like this; you’re passionate and focused. It’s more than impressive. And, even though he won’t be able to encourage you as your boss, your father will understand. And if he doesn't, I'll try to step in to help. You're doing something amazing here, it deserves your energy and time. We'll help Thran see that."

Legolas nodded, eyes still closed. He really did not want to cry yet again today. “Will you tell him?”

Bard sighed. “I get that there’s going to be a lot of complications with this situation because of the company, yeah?” Legolas nodded. “Yikes. Alright. Listen, boyo, I won’t tell him anything. But if he asks, then I won’t lie to my husband.”

Legolas nodded and smiled. “That’s more than fair. Thank you,” he regarded Bard wryly. “I hope Father knows how lucky he is to have you.”

Bard shrugged. “He gets the memo every now and again. Now, off you get. I’d best be home. See you this weekend, I suppose.”

They hugged briefly before Bard set off toward home, and Legolas returned to his friends. They decided to go grab dinner to discuss the days events and the plans for the weekend rally, and Legolas texted Tauriel and Kili to come meet them at Arwen’s behest. Legolas grinned to himself. He had started off the day an anxious and single wreck, and now he got to finish it out centered, with new goals and renewed drive to help Aragorn, sitting next to his partner. Knowing the challenges they’d all be facing within the next few weeks, he silently thanked the powers that be for this moment of calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this plot filled chap! Updates may become a bit slower as school is starting again (final semester!! Woo!) and as I work to balance the plot and gigolas content. Truly, any and all feedback is loved and appreciated. I hope you all have a good week!


	12. Rage, Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit begins to get lobbed toward the fan for Legolas, and resulting precursors to the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience. This semester is kicking my ass, but I am in no way abandoning this fic. It's a joy to write. I hope y'all enjoy reading this chapter because I had a great time writing it. 
> 
> Warnings: queer is used a slur by non-queer character in this chapter. Cursing. The usual.

The front glass doors to the corporate building that housed Oscar de la Renta slid open without a sound, save for the dull -click-click-click- of a thick heeled boot on marble tile. Thranduil Lasgalen did not walk through the lobby so much as he swanned through it, as interns and assistants scattered before him. His heavily jeweled left hand delicately cradled his ceramic tumbler of chamomile and jasmine tea, while his right held his phone to his ear. His waterfall of straight white-blond hair trailed behind him as an ethereal afterthought, the final dotted i of a beautiful piece of calligraphy, held away from his high cheekbones by sheer force of will alone. No one, not even an errant strand of hair, dared to block his path toward the elevators. In fact, no one even spoke to him until he reached his office on the 38th floor, at which point he encountered Galion. He muted the conference call he had deigned to listen in on after the fourth text begging him to chime in for guidance. 

“Good morning Thranduil,” Galion barely looked up from the tablet he had cradled as he followed his boss through into his office. He tapped a panel beside the doors, locking them and allowing the clear plate glass to ‘fog’ over so none of the designers outside could see in. “Agenda is the usual today, but I did overhear something you may be interested in.”

Thranduil suppressed an eyeroll. Though a fantastic personal assistant, and kind friend to boot, Galion was always too ready to participate in office gossip. “I have no interest in entertaining whatever scandalous drivel has made its way along the grapevine, Galion.”

Galion looked up from his tablet at last, and shifted his weight to one foot as he gave the other man his full regard. “It’s a bit more than drivel, Thranduil, but get settled first. Trust me.”

Thranduil hummed noncommittally, certain that this was just another rumor that had gotten too big for its own head, but took his time putting his things away. His black double-breasted longline trench coat went up on the hand carved coat rack, his personal sketch pad and design notebook into the locked drawer hidden in his desk, the newly painted picture frame from Tilda next to the old metal one as a reminder to swap the photos later. He filed the paperwork he’d finished late last night in the kitchen as Bard had done the dishes and Sigrid had struggled through her AP Biology assignment next to him. He scribbled notes from his phone onto his paper desk calendar, reminders to contact Grima in marketing, Elrond to discuss the legal proceedings with Armani and the rights to that one textile design, and Legolas to get that month’s budgeting and expenditure reports. He made one more note to grab eggs and Bain’s whey mixture for rugby before he went home. 

He sat at last in his chair, and met Galion’s smirking gaze. “What?”

“Nothing, Mr. Incredible. How are the kids and that hunky husband of yours?”

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “Just fine, thank you. Now, what is this pressing trivia you wish me to know?”

“I’ll get there. First, I need signatures and initials and to give you the weekend update. Usual Monday drill, chief, really, how long have we been doing this?” Galion rolled his eyes back at him.

“Yes, yes, give it all here.”

Thran proceeded to sift through another ten minutes of contracts, filing forms, reports, and other papers that needed his immediate attention. And then another twenty while he and Galion poured over their shared google calendar on their respective tablets, making notes and shifting appointments while Galion droned on about the weekend updates from the corporate executives. Thran sighed to himself. As powerful as being a creative and design director was, he was never a match for the ones who held all the money. To them, what more was he than a handsome puppet who sprouted amusing ideas and fun colors when they poked him. 

He needed more tea.

“Alright, Galion, I think I get the picture,” he held up a hand to silence his PA. “Now, I must admit defeat, and tell you my curiosity regarding this gossip has peaked. Out with it.” He rose to turn on his electric kettle over in the sitting area of his office as Galion cleared his throat.

“Are you aware of the environmental rallies that have been taking place across the city?”

Thran shrugged. “Vaguely, yes. Why?”

“Are you aware of your son’s involvement?”

That brought Thran up short. He paused pouring the water into his mug, but did not let his mask falter. “Bain has a project involving environmental rallies, some report for school. We didn't let him attend but he was allowed to watch on television. That’s all.”

Galion fixed him with a look that said ‘Really? It’s cute you think I’m that dumb’. “Not that son Thran. The other one. The one who works here, who represents the company. No offense but why would I care about some macaroni art project your middle schooler is half-assing on weekends?”

“Watch it,” Thran hummed. “And get to the point. What has Legolas been up to, and more importantly, why do I need to care?”

Galion snorted. “You mean aside from the obvious reason of biologic-”

“Galion.” Thran glared at his long-time assistant.

He wilted a bit under that cold blue gaze. “He’s been trending all over twitter and instagram for his recent involvement in Aragorn Elessar’s apparently massive urban-ecology development push, and even more noticeable opposition of those companies building over Central Park.”

Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek carefully, turning from Galion to gaze out of the windows that overlooked the bustling city traffic. He didn’t need his assistant overanalyzing the emotions flitting across his face. No, this didn’t necessarily spell disaster for Legolas’ career here at Oscar, but it didn’t bode well. The company had fairly strict social media policies, involvement policies, and even stricter representation by-laws. Their image, carefully neutral in terms of political and religious and social issues, was to be removed and above the issues. That way, there was a larger target audience to sell to. 

And yet, no matter how many times he repeated these cold facts to himself, the recitation never fully staved off the cold stab of guilt that lanced through him. 

How many issues had he been unable to “care” about? His own right to marry his husband, for one. His son’s right to marry, for that matter. The passion and love and frustration and eventual elation had all remained unvoiced within in, hidden behind the mask. 

And now, as the city filled with smog and trash, as the sea crept ever closer to the streets filled with homeless and underprivileged individuals who needed far more help than anyone buying their merchandise-

He shook himself internally. No, it was not his place to speak on these issues. He wasn’t paid to opine, to rally and scream and fight and wail. He was paid to clothe, to design, to sell, to market. And he would.

And so would his son.

“Thank you, Galion. I will look into this further when I get the time. Dismissed.”

He heard the tell-tale sigh, the murmured goodbye, and the door click. He crossed the room to drape himself into his desk chair and pulled out his laptop. He flicked over to instagram, and opened a separate tab for his twitter. Both private, as the company owned his public one. Only his select few friends and family members followed these two accounts. He found his son’s public accounts on both platforms, and spent the next few minutes reading, scrolling, reading some more. Checking comments. Scrolling again and reading. Googling terms for clarity. Back to reading. Post after post, thread after thread. 

The change was fairly stark in both accounts, but Legolas had seen to that with a notifying post on each site. 

‘Hey little birds! A brief update in what’s going to be coming up in the New Year; I’ve been asked by a good friend to help out with a very green project around the city. Details will be forthcoming but for now, buckle in! No, my content will not be taking on an entirely new direction, but it will be gaining some added bonuses. We’re gonna help make this planet a better place together! 

Thranduil frowned. The post was cryptic, but intriguing enough to leave him wondering. He supposed that was the desired effect. He flicked idly through a few more posts, smiling slightly at some of the more amusing thumbnails and tweets. 

He stood briefly to pour more tea, and poke his head out to ask Galion if his son was in yet. Upon learning that Legolas had yet to turn up for work, Thranduil frowned thoughtfully and retreated into his office. He considered his design pad for a moment before he reopened his laptop and began re-examining his sons pictures and tweets from the last month or so. He peered closely at each picture on both instagram and twitter, searching, scanning-

Aha.

He started sketching faint tick marks onto a scrap of paper and came up with a larger number than he thought he would.

Twenty-three. 

Of the almost fifty posts since Thanksgiving, maybe slightly before, a rugged, bearded red-head was in twenty-three of them. Only two features him as a center of focus, in the rest he was in the background, bent over work benches, desks, lecturing in one, and holding a handmade sign for the climate rally from this past weekend in the other, alongside Tauriel and a short bearded young man who was standing rather close to her.

Hm. 

Thranduil would bet anything that the man with the red hair had a Scottish accent. 

He closed his laptop and steepled his fingers. His son’s posts regarding the climate change and urban ecological movements in the city werre generating millions of likes, and even more views. His close association with the radical Aragorn wouldn’t go unnoticed much longer either. And to make matters worse, each post’s caption contained a “fun fact” about the environmental impacts that aligned with the content above, including his beauty and lifestyle posts. And worst of all, including his fashion posts.

Fun fact: did y’all know that most microfibers wind up in the oceans and threaten natural aquatic life? Make sure the companies you buy from properly dispose of their waste!!

Fun fact: Synthetic fibers don’t break down (decompose!), meaning they wind up in already overflowing landfills. Buy responsibly!

Fun fact: Of the 170 million child laborers, majority work in the fast fashion industry in some way. A big part of sustainability is how goods are made, not just how they’re disposed of, so shop smart!

Fun fact: Did you know that there is more than 200,000 ft of green roofs in New York City? Green roof vegetation absorbs water, reduces heat island effect, and helps provide insulation! Neat, huh?

Fun fact:

Fun fact

Fun-

The list went on and on, with blurbs that sounded more like Tauriel had written them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Thranduil was impressed by his son’s dedication and passion for this seemingly random cause, which was clearly more than some passing idle fad. But that admiration was buried under layers of worry, doubt, and frustration. How could Legolas so flippantly disregard his contracts? His job? The company they both worked for? His reputation and image?

Thranduil scowled and picked up his phone. He punched the contact and waited for the ringing to become a voice that hopefully had some answers.

“Hello, father? What do you need?”

“Tauriel, I need to speak with you. It’s about your brother.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

Floors above Thranduil, Aaron Zaugart, CMO of Oscar de la Renta was perusing one of his employee’s instagram. Up and coming Legolas Lasgalen was the darling of la Renta, the face everyone knew. His modelling career was lucrative and prodigious, even though he should be well into his runway twilight years. The kid’s face just didn’t age right. Granted, if these videos were anything to go by, it probably had something to do with all this weird foreign cream shit he seemingly smeared on day after day.

Ah, well. What else was there to expect from such an out and proud queer. Aaron snorted, making another note in the legal pad he’d been scribbling in. Clearly, Legolas would not respond to the same, well, impressions that they had made upon his father so many years ago. 

Aaron smiled, and it was a slimy, nasty smile. The kind of smile that pulls back the jowls of a thick-headed bulldog before it snapped at you. He was never above fighting dirty, and this piece of twink ass was practically writing his own smear campaign, let alone his termination.

He leaned over and paged his secretary. 

“Get me Thranduil Lasgalen after lunch. We need to have a little chat.”

\------------------------------------------------------

“Breaking News! DuMonte Enterprises and other affiliated companies have apparently been asked to reopen negotiations with the mayor of New York City. Following a major public outcry against their plans to develop Central Park, natural lands along the Hudson that were formally protected, and other major renovations, DuMonte has agreed to meet with several leading experts-”

Aragorn snorted in derision, glaring daggers at the television, and Legolas hummed noncommittally as they waiting for their breakfast orders. It was Monday morning, the weekend after their first rally, which, despite the scramble for last minute arrangements, had succeeded in its goal to get the public eye on the companies involved with Central Park. However, there was still much to be done.

“This won’t mean anything. They’ll just meet, reword some paragraphs, change some numbers around, and get some poor consultant to slap an approval sticker on the new and improved plan.”

Legolas nodded. It was still far too early for him to be completely awake, but he was keeping up as best he could. “My pictures from the rally went live yesterday. They seem to be generating some heat, but nothing major just yet. I’ll be going to Gimli’s next green roof drafting field day whatchamacallit this Wednesday, so those will go up by the weekend, just in time for the next rally.”

Aragorn nodded. “Excellent. Try to encourage any of your local followers to go.”

“Ugh, why, they’re just gonna go for attention and to seek me out. It’s annoying.”

“Because right now we need more bodies. So put word out and make noise, offer free skin masks, whatever.”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “You know, you insult my skincare and fashion routines quite a lot for a man who looks like he slept in a trash heap majority of the time.”

Aragorn scoffed. “It’s called dressing comfortably.”

“You’re wearing crocs. In public. I honestly don’t know why I let myself be seen with you.”

“It’s my rugged intellect and enrapturing personality.”

“Your raving lunacy, more like.”

They paused their in the old and familiar banter as the waiter brought their dishes over. Aragorn thanked the man and went to scoop some egg into his mouth, only to have his fork smacked out of his hand.

“Ah-ah! Wait! You know the rules, I get my picture first. Besides this is good for clout.”

“Wh-clout? Isn’t that a fungus?”

“I literally hate you.” Legolas groaned as he snapped a few pics of their meals, being sure to get just the lower half of Aragorn’s face in the shot. He preferred to have some privacy in his public posts, and made a mental note to blur the background of the little cafe. They ate in silence for a few moments, Aragorn his eggs benedict scramble and hash, Legolas his kale and turkey egg white omelet with sriracha and gluten free toast. After a moment, Aragorn spoke.

“So, how are things with Gimli?”

Legolas just barely managed not to choke on his toast, but the resulting hacking cough was not any more attractive a noise. “Pardon?” he wheezed.

“Really, Legs, I’m not blind.” Aragorn rolled his eyes.

Legolas glared. “Yes, you are, actually. When did Arwen hint at it?”

Aragorn grinned, as he always did at the mention of his almost-wife. “Saturday morning. And then, at the rally, it seemed painfully obvious. I don’t know how I missed all those weeks, the months, of flirting and banter.”

“Maybe if you got a haircut you would be able to see better.”

“Legolas…”

He heaved a very put-upon sigh, but only to hide the grin he knew was tugging at his lips, the grin that always came calling at the mention of Gimli. “He’s good. We’re good. More than good, really. We’re great.”

Aragorn was smiling at him. “I’m glad, Legolas. I really am. He likes the birds?”

Legolas snorted. “He pretends he doesn’t, but I’m pretty sure I can hear him baby-talking to them once in a while.”

Aragorn chuckled. “They’re strangely charming, like their owner.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Legolas stuck his tongue out. “Speaking of relationships, when are you getting married?”

Aragorn sighed. “I really don’t know. It’s been hard lately. Everytime I’m back in the city, she’s abroad, and everytime she gets a month or two off, I’m jetting around to conferences and who knows what else,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, and for a moment, looked more tired than just a lack of sleep could cause. “I’ve really missed her lately. Long distance is hard, harder than I thought it would be.”

Legolas nodded sympathetically, and reached out to pat Aragorn’s forearm. “It is. But, I know you can make it work. And this won’t be forever. Really, it won’t. Besides, with more happening here in the city, you’ll be home more often than not. Plus, you can always turn down a conference, you know. I know it’s not in your nature to not try to help whoever calls you, but really, there’s no shame in staying here sometimes.”

Aragorn nodded. “I know. Or at least, I’m trying to. Thank you, Legolas,” he peered at him searchingly. “You know, I’ve known you for a long time. You’re different lately, a bit.”

Legolas hummed. “So I’ve been told. Let’s all just embrace the change, shall we?”

“Fair enough. So, is your younger brother still determined to go to the next rally?”

“Sigh, yes. Even though both Bard and Father have forbidden it. And, honestly, I don’t blame them. Isn’t this one going to be later?”

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, it’ll probably start around 5, and things are more likely to go, hm, awry, let’s say.”

“Awry? How so?”

“They’ll be expecting us this time. And though I know Bard is good and true man, many other officers of law enforcement are not incorruptible. I can see things going a bit rough, so it’s best we all take precautions.”

Legolas nodded. “I feel bad. Bain always thinks I’m against him or something, and this won’t help. But, y’know, I’d rather the twerp be pissy with me than in danger.”

Aragorn nodded. “The joys of parenting are never ending.”

“Something like that.” Legolas paused as his phone buzzed. He was getting a call. He flipped the phone over and was startled to see Tauriel calling him. Shouldn’t she be in class? He glanced apologetically who nodded for him to take it. 

“Hey Taur, what’s-”

“Legolas, I don’t have long, Professor D is walking in now but I had to warn you.”

“What? Slow down, warn me about what?” His brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand what he was asking about until it was too late. Father knows about your involvement with Aragorn, and the posts, and all of it. I told him everything else. I’m so sorry. And he’s pissed beyond measure. And more than that, he was called to a lunch meeting with Zaugart as I was hanging up, so I think everyone else is about to know, too.”

Well, fuck.

\---------------------------------------------------

Gimli strolled into class five minutes to the start of lecture, so he got his laptop hooked up to the projector fairly quickly and took the last minute to hang his bomber jacket up in the corner. He smoothed a hand over his shirts, making sure his buttons were all fastened, his navy jeans clean, his boots unscuffed. Oddly enough, between himself and Legolas, he was certainly more fastidious about his appearance than his partner. He grabbed his glasses out of their case in his satchel, put them on, and sipped his coffee as he looked at the students filing into the lecture hall. 

He grinned privately as Kili walked in, gazed about for Tauriel, and lit up when he saw she had saved him a seat. As if she hadn’t been doing so every Monday and Wednesday since the semester began. He was privately happy to have Tauriel not only in his general engineering physics class, but his more advanced Urban Development course. She was a bright learner, and a wonderful conversationalist. He hoped she stuck around to do her graduate work here as well. 

He pushed those thoughts aside as he saw her troubled frown. She was tugging at her lower lip, a nervous tick she shared with her brother, and glancing at him from time to time. She seemed almost guilty, regretful. When Kili sat down, he regarded her with concern, and when he finally put the phone down, he placed a hand on her shoulder tentatively. She gave him a tremulous smile, before facing front. 

Right. Lecture. 

He launched right into tension force and impact waves, and how to calculate both. Students scribbled furiously, pausing him to clarify every now and again. As he was wrapping up with the food for thought section on how to make structures more sustainable on active fault lines, and the homework assignment in which he tasked the students to come up with an earthquake-proof building, his phone buzzed. 

He tugged it out to glance at it between note points. 

Leg <3: I’m in your office. No rush. 

Gimli fought down the concern welling up within him. Between Tauriel’s fervent conversation and this text, he had a very bad feeling growing in his gut. He pushed it down to wrap up his lecture, before he all but tore out of the classroom. He was vaguely aware that Tauriel seemed to be following him, which meant Kili probably was too, but he couldn’t really be bothered to care. He made it up the stairs to his office in record time, just barely restraining himself from throwing open the door violently. He took a deep breath, and pushed in gently. 

Legolas was curled up in his office chair, which he had wheeled over to the window to catch the morning sun on his face. He idly moved one of his early carvings from hand to hand, running his thumbs over the wood. Gimli could see from here that his left thumb was red and scabbed; he’d been gnawing at it again, then.

“Legolas? What’s wrong?”

The taller man startled, and Gimli cursed himself for not realizing he’d been too in his own head to register him coming in. He recovered well, though, mustering an absent and worried smile. “Hey there handsome. Uh, got some not so good news this morning.”

Gimli shut the door behind him, aware that Kili and Tauriel had apparently not followed him all the way up. He suspected they were waiting in the student study area three floors below. He dropped his coffee mug on the desk on his way over to Legolas. He leaned against the wide window sill, not quite sitting on it as he waited for his partner to elaborate. 

“G’wan then. Wha’s eatin’ ya.”

“Tauriel called me. Apparently my father knows. Galion directed him to my instagram and twitter. I don’t know who tipped off Galion. Probably Haldir.”

Gimli winced. “Have you been fired then?”

Legolas shook his head. “No, not yet. All we know is that Father is now well aware of the extent of my involvement with Aragorn, and that the chief of marketing, Aaron Zaugart, called him into a meeting after lunch today. So we’ll see.”

Gimli sighed, dropping a hand on Legolas’ knee. “Ah’m sorry about yer job, darlin’. I know you-”

“Fuck the job!” Legolas stood abruptly, and began pacing. “I don’t give a shit about some stupid ass job where everyone looks at me like I’m some air-head, twinky-ass daddy’s boy. I can model anywhere and for anyone I want, I get at least fifteen offers a week. I’m freaking out, and I’m pissed beyond reason, about my dad.”

Gimli blinked, reeling internally from the abrupt mood shift. “How do ya mean?”

Legolas ran a hand through his hair as he stalked the length of the room. “This is going to fuck everything up! I am going to fuck everything up! We all just got back on good terms. After nearly two decades of silence and angst and whatever else, me and my dad and Tauriel are finally all happy to be in the same room. And it’s all about to go to shit. Because I know, I know, what he’s going to say and do. And I refuse to accept it.”

Gimli nodded, but pushed on. “What is he going to do?”

“Well, first, he’s gonna fire me because he has ‘No Other Choice’. And he’s gonna expect me to sympathize. Then he’s going to get everyone else in the fucking family to make me feel like if I don’t agree or understand or whatever, the resulting emotional shitstorm is on me! When in reality, this is all on him!” Legolas paused to heave in a deep breath. “Just because he refuses to have a spine about anything ever, doesn’t mean I don’t have to. Did you know he’s not really allowed to wear his wedding ring at work?”

Gimli blinked. “Uh-”

“Yep! No ring. Too controversial because another man gave it to him. And that’s not official or anything but he was asked ‘politely’,” Legolas made air quotes as he rolled his eyes. “Not to. No pride collections, no words on shirts, no public statements allowed from the ‘Gay Designer’. No nothing. And he just accepts that!”

Gimli stood up and snatched Legolas’ flailing hands out of the air. “Deep breath, darlin’. There ye are. Now, I cannot speak for your father, nor do I ever want to. But have you ever talked to him about this?”

Legolas shook his head, his eyes downcast. “No. I’ve tried, but he walls up every time.”

“Well then,” Gimli sighed. “There’s nothin’ much ya can do. But you’re right. You can’t let him guilt you into making his mistakes. Stand your ground. And if your family loves you as much as I know they do, they’ll come around. Even yer tosser of a Da.”

Leg smiled, but it was still pinched and upset. “It’s going to be a mess. Whatever happens, people are going to be hurt. And no matter how much I brace myself, no matter how many time I tell myself what to expect, I know that having my own dad throw something I actually care about back in my face, and tell me its wrong, and not good enough, is going to hurt like a bitch.”

Gimli drew him into a tight hug. “Aye, I can assure you that it undoubtedly will. But, I can also assure you that I’ll be there to hold ye tight after.”

Legolas squeezed him back, his lanky frame once again belying his impressive strength. “Thank you, Gimli.” He pressed a kiss to Gimli’s temple, before straightening. He ran a finger under his eyes, but pulled it away dry. “Aha! I didn’t cry for once.”

Gimli chuckled. “Congrats.”

“Merci, mon coeur. Now, let’s go find my sister and your hunky cousin. I wanna see if they’re dating yet.”

“Ye cannae just leave well enough alone, can ye?”

Legolas tapped a finger to his lip in mock consideration. “Hmmm nope. But you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“I can think of a few ways I want ye-”

“Gimli!”

Laughing, the two set off down the stairs. Legolas twined his hand through Gimli’s halfway down the second flight, and didn’t take it back for the duration of their impromptu coffee date with Kili and Tauriel. And when Legolas set off for his apartment, it was with lighter shoulders and a clear hand. His foreseeable future may be slightly fucked, but he had more than enough to fall back on. 

\------------------------------------------

Bard knocked softly on the door to his husband’s study. It was well after 10 pm, and kids had all settled down in bed for the night. Tauriel was at her dorm and Legolas was presumably at his apartment. The house always felt a hair emptier without them, Bard thought privately. But he digressed. Thran had been holed up with his work since he came home, and had skipped dinner. Not even Tilda could coax him out. So, in he went to face the dragon in his lair. 

“Thran? I’m coming in, love.”

No answer. Bard frowned and pushed open the old oak door, and stepped quietly inside. Thran was slumped over on his desk, seemingly asleep. His sketch pad lay beside his head, his fine-nibbed pen still grasped lightly in his hand. Bard smiled slightly, and crossed the room to stand behind his slumbering spouse. He brushed aside some of the white-gold silk spread across the pages of the pad. He picked it up carefully, and his breath caught as he examined the pages. Thran was a very talented designer, which translated to being a very talented artist. His eye for detail and measurements was nigh unparalleled, and Bard knew he was very lucky to be one of the few permitted to examine the inner workings of Thran’s artistic mind. 

The pages in his hand, however, did not hold traditional fashion design. They held figures. The book was open to a carefully sketched toddler, with chubby cheeks, bright eyes, a determined pout, and pale blond hair. Legolas. The previous page showed an older boy holding a wobbly bow, his tongue out in concentration. Obvious attention had been paid to the clothes, and it was clear Thran had focused his energy on clothing design, letting the rest of his emotions bleed into the figure they clothed almost as an after thought. This page held several scribbled sketches; a young red haired girl mid-laugh, the blond boy feeding ducks, both of them riding bikes. In each, the figures were wearing elaborate sports wear, dresses, tunics, suits, and so forth. Bard flipped back to the beginning of the pad, and paused.

In this sketch, no attention whatsoever was paid to the clothes. There were none in fact, there was barely a face. Eyes stared back at him from the page, deep and intense, mottled grey and brown, rich maroon highlights layered over heather ribbons. Bard couldn’t explain why, but these eyes seemed to be righteously furious, and yet deeply hurt all at once. The draw of the brow, the the tightened edges of the eyelid, the high cheekbones, all conveyed a sense of pleading, yet resignation. Bard felt guilty and unnerved. 

Thran and Legolas must have had a fight. 

He swallowed, and placed the drawing pad into its designated drawer, and locked it. He shook Thran gently, prepared for when he started awake. 

“What? Bard? Huh?” Thran sat up quickly, and then pressed a hand to his head, wincing. 

Bard frowned. “Are you alright? Have you been drinking?”

“No, but I wish I had.”

“Thran,” Bard crouched to lean his arms in his husband’s lap and look up at him imploringly. “What happened today?”

Thranduil swallowed. “I cannot say, yet. But you will know soon.”

“Was it bad?”

“Not just yet. But it may be yet.”

“This conversation is far too cryptic, love.”

Thranduil sighed. “I know. I am sorry for my reticence. All I can tell you is that I will probably have to fire my son.”

Bard gaped. “What-”

“Please, Bard,” Thran grabbed him about the shoulders. “This cannot leave this room. Ever. I’m trying to fight this, but it’s above me. I- I don’t want-”

Thran cut himself off, and looked away, choked. Bard sighed. His husband was many things to the public eye; mercurial, cold, intelligent, fierce, moody. And sometimes he could be those things with his family. But underneath it all, Bard knew he was a loving, benevolent soul who’d been wounded deeply too many times. He was a wonderful husband, and he tried to be the best father he could be. 

“Thranduil,” he ran a hand down Thran’s neck to rest against his chest. “Talk to me. You know I’m your keeper, that nothing we tell one another ever leaves this home. 

Thranduil took in a shaky breath, before standing and tugging Bard up with him. Bard followed his cue, and settled into one of the armchairs across the room. No fire was lit, but the darkness suited them. As he got comfortable, Thran settled in his lap, wrapping his arms about his shoulders and resting his head in the crook of his neck. Bard smothered a grin; his husband was also the biggest lap cat on the planet, but that was another family secret. He ran a hand through his Thran’s hair. 

“So, what ails the king of fashion?”

“They want me to fire my own son for reasons that are negligible.”

“Who wants him fired? And why? Can you fight it?”

“That asshole marketing chief, Zaugart. Fucking homophobic trash.”

Bard grinned to hear Thran get fired up, but it faded. “And why is he so hellbent on Legolas being let go?”

Thran sighed. “Legolas is on the fringes of voiding his contracts. You know of Aragorn Elessar?” Bard nodded. “He has recruited Legolas into helping further his political and environmental endeavors. He is using his followings across the internet to promote sustainability and awareness and such.”

Bard frowned. “But that’s a good thing. Why does that void his contract?”

“He’s begun speaking out against the unsustainable practices of the fashion industry. He hasn’t named names yet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s also been seen wearing Oscar fabrics at public events, like the-” Thran cut himself off and Bard braced himself. It seemed the fog had cleared long enough for his husband to connect the dots. 

“Yes, Thran.”

“The rally,” Thranduil growled, and there was something dark and mean in his voice. “The rally you were asked to attend.”

Bard tightened his arms around Thranduil’s waist. “Easy there, darling. Don’t go saying or doing anything we’ll both regret.”

Thran exhaled harshly. “You knew?”

“I knew only he’d be attending the rally. He asked me specifically not to tell you, and I did not want to put myself in the middle of whatever this is turning into.” Thran was breathing hard, and Bard knew he fought to keep a lid on his infamous cold temper. “Thranduil, my love, you know I had no idea what this would turn into, and you know that I never intended to hurt you with this,” he tugged Thran up to look him in the eyes, meeting that intense gaze without flinching. “You know I’m not lying. And I am sorry for withholding this from you. If I had known how much distress this would cause, you know i would have told you.”

Thran’s nostrils flared, but he dropped his head back onto Bard’s collarbone. “I’m still not thrilled, but I understand. I suppose.”

Bard kissed Thran’s temple and rubbed his hand along long, thinly muscled flanks. “Will it help my case if I make waffles tomorrow morning?”

A barely suppressed chuckle. “No.”

“Shame. Guess I won’t bother trying then.”

“Guess not.”

Bard sighed. He was not entirely out of the doghouse, but he knew that his husband wasn’t really mad at him directly. The whole situation was a nightmare. “So it’s really curtains for Legs at Oscar?”

“I can’t see a way out of it,” Thranduil sighed. “He is really going to hate me forever.”

Bard shrugged. “Not if you handle it delicately. And I mean, no this isn’t what you want for him, but Thranduil, by gods, you should have seen him. I’ve never seen the kid so, so passionate. He had that fire in his eyes, the kind you only see when people care about what they’re doing,” Thranduil hummed, and Bard could practically feel the temperature dropping as his mood grew icy again. He sighed. “Listen. I know it’s hard to swallow, but he needs your support with this. It may not be what you want for him, but it’s what he wants for himself. Let that be enough?”

There was a long pause, and Bard thought at one point Thran was going to toss him out of the study to continue his brooding. But, at length, he relaxed a bit in his husband’s embrace. “I will do my best.”

He kissed Thran’s temple. “That’s all anyone can ask. C’mon, beautiful man, it’s time for us to get our old bones to bed.”

Thranduil rose and stretched languidly, and Bard’s mouth dried as his shirt rode up that long torso, revealing well-cut abdominals and a hint of a dusting of white hair, trailing down into the criminally low-cut jeans his husband insisted on wearing. Thranduil met his eyes with intrigue. 

“Let us retire, and I’ll show you just how old these bones are, hm?”

Bard grinned, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and out the door. 

\------------------------------------------------------

Across town, in his king sized bed heaped with silk and cashmere, Legolas scrolled through his feed. Resuable straws, cups, and bamboo utensils were his newly targeted ads, thanks to the round of research he’d just completed. He’d ordered a bulk pack of stainless steel straws for the iced lattes he favored in the summer. Now, he scrolled for leisure.

Haldir. 

Haldir.

Eowyn’s newest horse. Cutie.

Haldir.

Gimli and Kili at the bar. Very nice. 

Haldir.

Legolas sneered. He hated having to follow this douche to keep up appearances. That would certainly be one small bonus to getting canned. No more bleach blond douchebags. He smirked, and let his eyes drift across the tags. 

#oscardelarenta #blessed #allnatural

All natural. Yeah right. 

Legolas paused to gnaw his lip. He wondered…. Before he could stop himself, he had grabbed his laptop off the side table and was opening up his search engine. “Oscar de la Renta” and “sustainable” brought him a myriad of results, very few of which were positive. 

He debated. Either way, he was probably fired. But now he stood on a precipice. Would he be fired for apparently violating their terms? Or would he be fired for a reason. Should he go softly into the night, or rage against the dying of the light like a martyr?

He paused. And then he grabbed his notepad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: we're huckin the entire toilet at the fan, yo. But maybe some fluff first. Mayhaps....more than fluff first. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks. I love you all!


	13. Velvet Tongue, Dress Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli visits Legolas at work, and it seems to follow them home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT
> 
> I will be upping the story rating. Warnings; explicit sex, cursing, Gimli's thicc ass.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience with this chapter. School seems to get in the way constantly, which has been super annoying. And this chapter had a lot to say, apparently, and never wanted to end. So, here we are, 11k words later. Enjoy!
> 
> Very special thanks to Deheerkonijn for beta-ing this chapter and for like, 90% of its content.

Gimli cracked his neck and his knuckles loudly as he stood before his Urban Development class, waiting patiently as they took their first exam of the new semester. January had faded into a cold and wet February mid-week, with luckily little snow thus far, but plenty of miserable rain of the freezing variety. Just the thought of the weather outside made him pull his hoodie and Legolas’ scarf a bit tighter around himself. He took a fortifying sip of his coffee, noting that there was about fifteen minutes left in the class. 

“Fifteen to, everyone.” His voice bounced and rang off the walls of the arena-style lecture hall. He earned a smattering of nods and a few panicked glances. Some students didn’t even look up, merely shook their hands out as they fought off cramps. Tauriel was one such students, the look of concentration on her face nearly frightening. Gimli looked forward to grading her exam. They both knew she excelled in this class, and privately he thought she may be considering urban development as a field of graduate study. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, and saw Legolas had texted him. 

Leg <3: Hey small emergency call me after ur class is over

He blinked, startled, but had no time to think as another text came in.

Leg <3: like, a fashion emergency, not an oh god call the midwife emergency

Gimli bit the inside of his cheek to stop the well of laughter that had bubbled up.

G: i think if ya ever needed a midwife, ya’d be well beyond what i could help with. Call in 10

Leg <3: brat 

Gimli grinned to himself and checked his clock. 8 more minutes. They dragged by, as his curiosity had been fully piqued with his partner’s text. Legolas could handle his own fashion emergencies, as they were typically well beyond his understanding. And in that vein, what they both marked as emergencies tended to vary on a case to case basis. Just the other night, Legolas had called running out of almond milk after he’d poured a bowl of cereal “A goddam tragedy the likes of which haven’t been seen since Caesar, or, like, Brittany’s crisis”. 

3 minutes. He notified the class, and students began standing up to bring their exams down. Some looked resigned, others looked triumphant, but most just looked tired. He could sympathize, to a point. Yes, a 10 am start was early, but at least it wasn’t 8 am. Tauriel trotted up to him, plopping her thick packet of papers on the desk before sidling up to stand beside him. She was every bit as tall as her brother, with the effortless grace and purposeful movement that seemed to define them both. 

“So, Professor,” they also shared that ‘cat cornering a mouse in the pantry’ grin that Gimli knew only spelled trouble. “How are...things.”

He sipped his coffee, watching the queue of students lining up to drop off their papers. No one was still testing, and a low hum of conversation reverberated around the vaulted room. “Things are...good. How are things with you and my cousin?”

Kili had been in his fall semester engineering physics lecture, but had opted out of the secondary spring continuation of it. Gimli wasn’t hurt, and as much as he loved his cousin, he was a poor physics student. Thorin mentioned he was taking design classes with the computer program, which suited Kili’s prominent artistic side. Under Thorin’s tutelage, he’d make a fine jeweler someday. And besides, it was much easier, and far more fun, to tease Tauriel in his absence. 

Gimli watched her ears pinken, and she tossed her hair. “Things are well, as things ought to be between two good friends.”

He hummed. “That’s good. My madcap cousin could use good friends like you. But hopefully,” and he spared her a lidded stare full of intent. “He only has one good friend exactly like you. T’would be a wee bit gauche otherwise, eh?”

“Hmmm,” Tauriel was smiling to herself. “I suppose so. Things progress as they are meant to. I enjoy his company, and he claims to enjoy mine. For now, that is enough.”

Gimli nodded. He got the feeling Tauriel was not lying, per se, but was certainly omitting some truth. “At any rate, I’ve got to be off. I owe your brother a call.”

“Everything is okay, I hope.”

“Aye, a fashion emergency of some sort.”

Tauriel’s eyes flashed. “You had best be getting on, then. The new Spring Collection shoot is today, so that emergency may be a bit more dire than he’s letting on.”

Gimli’s eyes widened. Legolas had mentioned a very important shoot in passing, and had texted him rather early this morning by his standards. “Right, uh. Mind hanging around for a bit? Might need an assist.”

Tauriel nodded, going to pack up her bag while Gimli started the call. Legolas answered on the third ring, sounding breathless. 

“Hey, babe. Thanks for calling.”

“O’course. What’s up?”

“So, I left my secondary makeup bag at my apartment, and it’s got about three different pallets in it that I need by, like, 2 pm. What are the odds you can scoot on over and grab it and bring it down?”

“Yea, tha’s no problem. I don’ have a key, but Tauriel is wi’ me.”

“Perfect! Father wanted to see her anyway, so he’s probably already texted her by now. Arwen’s here too, I’ll let her know. And she should be able to get you in.”

“Ta, perfect. Is there anything else you want or need while I’m there? Tea, shoes, sweats, earbuds, anything?”

“You really are the perfect man, you know that?”

Gimli blushed to his roots at Legolas’ murmured appreciation. “Wh- nah, ah’m no-”

“Yes, you are. So hush. And some tea would be perfect. The jasmine and citrus blend, the grey traveler should be clean. Tell Tauriel to feed the nuggets while she’s there. And you’re looking for the black Tory Burch bag with the embroidered flowers and hummingbird zipper charm. In the bathroom, when you walk in, go to the vanity in the left corner, the one next to the closet connection, not the sink and mirror thing. In the top left drawer, next to my jars of bath salts. If you need help, ask Tauriel.”

Gimli furrowed his brow. “Think ah’ve got it. We’ll be along shortly.”

“Thank you so much. Dinner’s on me tonight as thanks. Oh, and if I’m on the set, Tauriel knows which dressing room is my usual. Find Arwen if you need a hand.”

“Dressing room, Tauriel, Arwen, got it.”

“Oh! One last thing. Haldir is here, and he’s being extra slimy today. Ignore him, and don’t let him get you alone. Alright, I’ve gotta go, they’re calling me for suits. Kisses, bye babe.”

“See you soon, darlin’.”

He disconnected the call, and found Tauriel waiting in one of the front row seats. He gathered up his papers and gestured for her to follow him. She bounded after him, grabbing his forgotten coffee and satchel.

“Ta, Tauriel.”

“No problem, professor.”

He chuckled. “I think when we’re outside the classroom, it’s more than acceptable for you to call me Gimli.”

Tauriel grinned. “Alright, then. Gimli. So what’s up?”

He gave her the rundown as they jumped into the elevator and rode it up to his office. She nodded, grabbing her phone out to check her messages. 

“Sounds good to me. Yep, Father texted. He wants me to bring Legolas’ phone charger and his black suede boots with the embroidered flowers. Huh, that’s weird.”

Gimli glanced at her as he pushed open his office door and dropped the stack of papers in his filing cabinet. “Oh?”

Taurield shrugged to herself. “Embroidered foliage is, not to be cliche, very last season. Father knows this, he’s the one who nixed them for a spring re-design. It’s probably some power flex or another. There are visiting designers at the shoot today, so he’s in a ruffle I’m sure.”

Gimli snorted. “Ah’ve seen pictures of yer Da, lassie, and I don’t think he’s one to be caught ruffled, so to say.”

Tauriel rolled her eyes fondly. “No, Thranduil the designer is unflappable. Thranduil the father, however, I could tell hair-raising stories about.”

“Oh, aye?” Gimli grinned. “Care to share with the class on the walk over?”

They left the building and campus at a brisk pace, jackets pulled up to ward off the damp chill that clung in the air. Legolas’ high rise was a ten minute walk uptown, and they passed it gaily, Gimli guffawing over Tauriel’s happily told stories of the typically calm, cool, and collected Thranduil being bested time and time again by his toddlers.

Gimli wiped tears of mirth from his eyes as they climbed into the apartment’s elevator. “My gods, ye two certainly had the run o’ him.”

Tauriel snorted loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yes, we most definitely did. It’s easier, when one of you is a good five years older. I had the cuteness, he had the agency. We were unstoppable gods of chaos trapped in tiny little bodies.”

“Aye, tha’s a great way to go about describin’ any ankle-biter.”

Tauriel glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You speak from experience?”

“My sister has two youngins o’ her own. They moved out of state so I don’ see ‘em so much anymore, but I spent many a nigh’ gettin’ my arse handed to me by the pair o’ them.”

Tauriel chuckled and they stepped off the elevator. “Kids are certainly a unique enigma of joy and terror.”

“Amen, sister.”

They unlocked the door and pushed into Legolas’ apartment, greeted by jasmine and birch scented air from the diffuser on the mantle, and happy beeping from the birdcage in the living room. Tauriel veered off to greet Legolas’ two zebra finches, affectionately dubbed the nuggets by Gimli, while he headed into the kitchen to set some water to boil. He grabbed the double insulated silver travel mug with white and blue geometric designs dappling the bottom half of it, and plopped two of Legolas’ preferred tea bags into it. He padded into his partner’s bedroom next, doing his best not to let his eyes linger on the still rumpled sheets, the pajama bottoms in a heap on the floor. He swallowed. 

Thanks to all the running around the two of them had been doing for their jobs, hobbies, and Aragorn, and now one another, they had yet to spend a night together, let alone steal time for anything more than a couple of increasingly desperate makeouts. Gimli idly wondered if he could persuade Legolas to skip dinner tonight and maybe spend the night in, instead. 

He shook himself from his reverie, and tore his eyes from the bedroom, he pushed through into the master bath, massive in its humble way. He entered through a small entry alcove, and glanced at the door to his right. It led into the walk-in closet, and knew that Leg had had it specially renovated so that he could go right into the climate-controlled space after he got out of a hot shower. He snorted to himself, but not in derision, never in derision. Privately, he was impressed at Legolas’ level of commitment to self-care and comfort. It wasn’t like the man ran around wasting his money. Who was he, let alone anyone, to comment on his partner’s minor and endearing eccentricities. 

He walked into the full bathroom. Against the far wall, facing him, were tinted and shade-controlled floor to ceiling windows. No one could see in, but the view out over Manhattan was unparalleled. Situated along the windows was the massive clawfoot tub that Legolas had sent him many a snapchat from. Gimli felt himself flush, the flutter in his abdomen that had been present since he stepped into the apartment moving decidedly lower. He tore his eyes from the tub, refusing to let his mind wander just yet. He studiously avoided looking too hard at the shower stall next to him on the right for that same reason. The central bathroom mirror was slightly behind him to the left, parallel to the shower, the double sinks sparkling clean. To his right, against the wall and next to the shower was the vanity he knew Legolas sat at every morning to get ready. 

He crossed the room and sat down in the comfortable chair. He opened the top left drawer, and immediately spotted the black and embroidered bag with the little bird zipper. He pulled it out, and went to close the drawer, but paused as he spotted the other various bits and bobs. He wasn’t sure if Legolas would need anything else, but to be safe, he tossed in a pack of hair ties, bobby pins, some of the cold cream makeup remover he knew Legolas preferred, and a pack of gum. Couldn’t hurt, Gimli figured.

He stood with the bag and left the room, heading into the kitchen. He poured the tea and slapped a lid on the tumbler, and found Tauriel waiting in the living room, flopped over on the couch. Gimli chuckled.

“Exam took it out of you, then?” 

Tauriel yawned and stretched as she nodded. “Yeah, not to mention I was helping Kili get ready for his German exam til like 3 am. He better pass.”

“Aye, he better indeed,” Gimli agreed, and they left through the door with their prizes in their bags. “Thorin and Dis will be none too happy if he flunks anything.”

“Yeah, he’s told me. He does try though, Profe- Gimli,” Tauriel flushed a bit. “He studies very hard, and he’s pulled more all-nighters in a semester than I have in my four, no wait, maybe five now, years at Columbia.”

“Five years?” Gimli glanced at her. “Aye?”

Tauriel shrugged as they boarded the elevator. “I finished high school and then went to stay with my grandparents in France for an odd year or so. I didn’t feel ready or balanced enough to take on a degree yet. Father supported me, and even when I came back to be a student, it took me a little while to settle on a degree, and I still took the odd semester off. I’m 24, so it wasn’t a huge delay, an extra two years altogether, and I’m happy I got to breathe and travel.”

Gimli nodded. He understood the need to take a break, to get away from all that had ever made up your entire life. The desire to escape the monotony, the day-in day-out. It was why he had become a professor. “I know exactly what ya mean, lass.”

They shared a smile and rode the rest of the way down chattering about little nothings, and kept good conversation all the way to the skyscraper that housed Oscar de la Renta’s business and modelling ventures. Spending time with Tauriel one-on-one, it was clearer than ever how amazingly similar, and wildly different she was to Legolas. They both possessed the same grace and surety of movement that trained athletes were notorious for, and Gimli recalled Legolas mentioning she was also an accomplished archer. They both flicked their hair and rolled their eyes in the same manner, had the same expressive smiles. But where Legolas was closed off and quiet, Tauriel was a natural conversationalist. Likewise, where Tauriel seemed to find comfort in silence between friends, Legolas was prone to nervous and mindless chatter. They were sun and moon; as different as night and day, but clearly sharing the same sky. 

They walked into the glossy and polished building, and Gimli became intensely aware of the eyes turning to him. He became self conscious for a moment, aware his button down and jacket were hidden under his old Erebor Jewelers hoodie and Legolas’ chunky green knit scarf. Tauriel caught his eye, and rolled hers obviously.

“Everyone here is a complete nose. Don’t let them bug you, they’re just bored interns.”

Gimli nodded, and they climbed into yet another elevator. Instead of heading up, though, Tauriel punched in the second floor of the basement levels. A few seconds later, the doors opened up into a fluorescent hyper-modern reception area. Faint throbbing music could be heard down the hall from them, beyond the desk. A woman with a severe strawberry blonde bun looked up at them as they came in. 

Her tone was clipped and serious. “Name?”

“Tauriel Lasgalen and a guest, Gimli Durinson. Here to drop off for my brother, Legolas Lasgalen.”

“I.D.?”

They both produced identification, and the woman punched them into the system. “And who is here to escort you?”

“That would be me!” They both glanced up at the voice floating down the hall toward them. Arwen appeared a second later, her ever-present smile bright and excited. She was dressed casually, in a cropped white Adidas hoodie, and matching fit grey sweats. She wore black heeled boots, though, and her hair was dusted with glitter. “Thank you so much, Denise. I can take them in whenever they’re set.”

The woman’s icy demeanor melted in the presence of Arwen, as most people did. The woman radiated peace and joy like fairy lights, or a Japanese rock garden. “Perfect, dear, thank you. Here you are, enjoy yourselves.” The woman handed them back passes on finely woven silk lanyards, along with their I.D.’s. They looped them around their necks, and followed Arwen back down the hall. The music was getting louder with each step.

“You two are here to bring Legolas his stuff, right?” Arwen glanced at them. “Perfect. He’s going up in 30, so you brought the finishing touches just in time.”

Tauriel perked up and nudged Gimli. “You’re in for a treat, then, loverboy. Legolas is a totally different animal in front of a camera.”

Arwen giggled. “That’s one way to put it,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Companies all over the world beg Oscar to renegotiate his contract every year. He’s one of the most talented models in the world.”

“Talent?,” Tauriel snorted. “He’s that much of a diva all the time, it just oozes out of him more on a stage.”

Gimli chuckled. Fair enough, he had never personally seen models work, but he wasn’t sure talent was the most accurate term. Almost as if she could read his mind, Arwen’s smile shifted to a bit more of a smirk. “Hmm, we’ll see about that.”

They pushed through a set of tall glass double doors, and the music became nearly deafening. They were standing in a beyond-massive warehouse-esque room filled with people. Everywhere he looked, models were walking to and fro in various states of dress. Men, women— even a couple of children stood in an area with their stressed-out parent’s and managers. The smell of deodorant, makeup remover, plastic wrap, fresh linens and fabrics permeated the air. He couldn’t hear much over the throbbing beat of The Weeknd’s latest hit, but the occasional jingle of jewelry, aerosol of hair spray, or stray curse of frustration made its way to his ears. It was controlled pandemonium in shades of gunmetal grey, fuschia, gold, hunter greens, and more. There was a healthy coating of glitter just about everywhere he looked, too, which explained Arwen’s hair. 

Tauriel gripped his shoulder and directed him after Arwen, who had veered left and was weaving through the throng. Gimli stayed close to her, not wanting to get even slightly lost in this jungle. They made their way toward a temporary folding room divider that was splitting the room in two, not quite reaching the ceiling. The doors were open, and this half of the room contained the set the models were working on. Gimli had expected on a runway, and it must have shown because Tauriel leaned down to speak into his ear. 

“Runways are to debut collections, while set shoots like this are for magazines, promos, billboards, commercials, and stuff like that. A runway shoot is a bigger to-do, like a gala. These shoots are pretty routine.”

Gimli nodded, and felt himself begin to sweat under the hot studio lights. He couldn’t see the set, nor the model on it, so he made to follow Arwen to get closer. Tauriel stopped them before they could. 

“Legolas is one of the next up, so hand me the makeup bag and I’ll bring it to him so he can finish getting ready,” Gimli nodded and handed over his items. Tauriel winked at him. “Enjoy the show.”

Gimli blushed, but turned to follow Arwen closer. The group of people around them was mostly other models watching their peers, photographers from various magazines, and executive types watching their money being made. His train of thought stopped at the sight of white-blonde hair in the crowd, but before he could hope it was Legolas, the figure turned around.

Gimli had seen pictures of Thranduil Lasgalen, but nothing could have prepared him for just how intimidating the man was in person. At 6’5” and in a pressed silver suit, he looked like he belonged on the set himself. Gimli had only seen a scowl like that on his Uncle Thorin’s face, and it usually meant someone was about to lose their kneecaps. Arwen tugged him on, before the elder Lasgalen could spot them. 

“Best not to bother him, today,” Arwen said into his ear. “Word is the higher-ups have tightened his chain lately, but no one is sure why.” 

Gimli made to answer with a vague rejoinder, but words failed him as they reached the stage at last. The walls, which looked to be mobile, were a deep green in a satin finish, with silver birch trunk patterns and gold geode veins dripping along the walls. It was an impressive set, with two renaissance period gilded armchairs, a grandfather clock, and a display case of prop swords on one of the walls. No one was on the stage that he could see, but the stage lights flashed twice, and the roar of the throng dulled to a respectful murmur. The music track changed to a heavy synthesized beat, and the energy in the room began to shift toward something else entirely.

Behind him he heard a model murmur, “And here he comes, the prince himself.”

Those words were the last things Gimli’s mind registered. Cameras were already flashing as Legolas slunk onto the set, something decidedly predatorial about how he made his way to centerstage. He wore a perfectly tailored military style tunic jacket, the gold chains that draped from shoulder to collar dripping deliciously over his well defined pectoral. His long, long legs were clad in deep burgundy pants that were ripped in sets from calf to hip, as though a vicious animal had rhythmically clawed away those pieces of fabric. The outfit ended in a pair of leather combat boots with gold laces.

Gimli felt his jaw slackening and did nothing to stop it. 

It was undeniable that Legolas was a gorgeous man, but this was another level. Gimli’s ears were suddenly filled with cotton, his vision seemingly tunneling. The crowd, the edge of the set, the cameras, all of it fell away as Legolas scanned the crowd with hooded eyes. His lips, dusted with a rusty red that looked more like blood, were parted ever so slightly. His walk was both demonstrative and shy, like a man playing the part of authority, but who privately yearned to follow orders himself.

As Legolas made his rounds of the set, moving from furniture to wall to floor, he sauntered right past Gimli. The pause, the falter in his cadence was barely existent, let alone noticeable. But Gimli saw it, and felt his pulse ratchet up higher than it already was, if that was possible. Legolas’ eyes drifted to meet his, and Gimli had to swallow hard when his partners’ gaze landed on him; as overwhelming as it was to see Legolas from the front in all his posturing glory, it was doubly so to be targeted by the most charged side-eye stare he’d ever experienced. The air between them seemed to crackle, electric and hot and alive from the heat of their deadlocked eyes. Gimli refused to shy away from that intense semi-glare, making sure to infuse every ounce of desire beating through him into the smirk he tossed Legolas’ way. Legolas’ eyes flashed, and he pivoted away from him quickly, his entire demeanor shifting from something subtle and implicit, to something brighter, wilder, like a flame that had just caught in the brush; wildfire potential. 

As if in response, the music shifted to something faster and hotter. Legolas was moving like a lion on a hunt, and the director was loving it. He strut across the stage hard, cameras clicking rapidly as they followed him, and threw himself into one of the gilded chairs. It seemed to morph beneath him, becoming a golden throne for a disenchanted, moody prince who had never learned how to sit properly. He tossed a leg over one arm, one still firmly planted on the ground. His golden hair spilled over one shoulder as he fell into position, draping a long arm over the back of the throne. As he sunk further into his bratty, indignant slouch, he flicked his gaze to meet Gimli’s, the heat there growing brighter, and rolled his hips into a small thrust as he “adjusted”.

Gimli bit the inside of his cheek. 

Legolas let the crowd snap their pictures, the director encouraging his borderline feral energy. He hauled himself out the seat and over the arm of the chair in one fluid movement, his muscles bunching through his jacket and where they were visible through his ripped pants. The director shouted something about the swords, and Legolas flashed him a grin that was more teeth than smile. Gimli swallowed hard again, and shifted his stance a bit. His pants were getting a bit too tight to be comfortable. Leg strode over to the fake sword display, and hefted one into his grip. He seemed to test the weight and sharpness. His gaze was singularly focused as he ran his hand along the length of the blade, his fingers nimble in their expert dance. He gripped it hard in his dominant hand, and gave it a few experimental turns before settling into a well-practiced fencing stance.

Of course the fucking bastard fenced. Of course he knew how to handle a sword. Of fucking course he did.

Gimli tasted copper and realized he’d bitten his cheek to the point of cutting. He cursed silently. The sharp pain had brought back some reality, and he realized Arwen was staring at the stage in amazement.

“Awrigh’, lass?” Damn if his brogue wasn’t thicker than a Highland fog watching Legolas up there.

Arwen nodded absently. “I’ve just never seen him like this. The energy, the passion. He’s usually much more reserved, colder. It’s like someone lit him on fire.”

Gimli hummed noncommittally, and had directed his attention back to Legolas before he could see the speculative glance Arwen levelled at him.

Legolas had the sword extended in a thrusting parry, his impossibly long legs extended in a lunge. The director was about ready to lose his mind, if his shouts of “Yes! Yes darling, that’s it! Yes! Give it to me!” Were anything to go by. Gimli more than wished he were yelling the same thing in a more private location.

Legolas stood out of the lunge, and hung the sword back up. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. The director moved him to centerstage again, and Legolas began moving into more freeform, full body poses. Classic modelling poses seemed to have new life breathed into them as Legolas stared at the cameras, unblinking. He stood with his legs shoulder-length apart in a power stance, his hand in his pockets. After a few clicks, he moved his head to the side, and his eyes once again found Gimli’s. The tension between them snapped to attention once again. Gimli dared to wet his lips, holding Legolas’ gaze, making sure Legolas saw the piercing through his tongue. His partner’s gaze shifted to something molten, a roiling inferno. 

Legolas turned back to the cameras, and cut his gaze to the director, who called for final photos. Thank god, he was almost done. As he pivoted and began to walk off, he paused, and tossed one last gaze back on the cameras, over his shoulder, his eyes dark with that same electric current Gimli felt tethering them. The cameramen shouted, almost begging for him to come back, but Legolas smirked, the cameras clicked a few last times, and he made his exit as quietly as he had come in.

Gimli’s breath came only a little easier. He shifted his stance and winced. He was almost painfully hard in his jeans, and his hands were all but shaking with desire. He turned to Arwen.

“When is he done here?” His voice was thick and husky. 

Arwen smirked. “That should be the end of it for him. Full ensembles are usually the last set of the day. Would you like to see him now?”

Gimli nodded, not bothering to trust his voice. Arwen gripped his shoulder with deceiving strength and began directing him through the crowd. They crossed into the large prep area, and ducked back into the hall. They walked down a long hallway, empty for the most part. There were a few plastic bins and storage drawers scattered about that seemed to be filled with various makeup and hair accoutrements, but Gimli paid them no heed. Arwen stopped and pointed to the last door on the right. 

“That’s his, the name’s on the door,” Arwen winked at him and released his shoulder. “Because he’s a senior model, he doesn’t share. See you later, Gimli.”

Gimli didn’t register walking up to the door, or knocking, or being told to come in. But he did register opening the door to a completely dressed Legolas, still in full ensemble and makeup, smirking as he leaned against the massive stage vanity. 

“Hey, Gimli.”

Gimli strode into the room, firmly closing the door behind him. Legolas had barely pushed himself off the dresser before Gimli slammed him back into it, yanking him down by the high collar of his jacket to bruise his lips in a hard kiss. Legolas moaned into his mouth, wrapping his arms around Gimli’s massive shoulders, his fingers clawing at the fabric of Gimli’s hoodie. Legolas pulled back long enough to yank the scarf off of Gimli’s neck before resuming the kiss. Gimli grabbed a fistful of Legolas’ hair, long and loose, yanking his head to the side as gentle as he could manage. Legolas whimpered at the tug as their kiss broke and Gimli began trailing biting kisses down that long, pale neck. 

“Gimli,” Legolas’ voice was high and breathy as he moaned. “Gimli, I want you, please.” He snarled and sucked hard the juncture of Legolas’ neck and shoulder, and the moan became loud shriek. 

“‘Ave no idea wha’ ye di’ to me ou’ there, darlin’,” Gimli soothed the angry red mark with the tip of his tongue, then scraped over it with his piercing. 

Legolas was panting. “Oh yes I do. Could see it, in your eyes.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“See anything else in my eyes?” Gimli tore his mouth from Legolas’ collarbone with a obscenely wet pop and met his taller lover’s gaze. Legolas’ pupils were blown wide, his lips were kissed and swollen, and his hair was quickly becoming a mess. His gaze, liquid heat, searched his, and seemed to find something it wanted. Legolas gripped his shoulders and spun them, pressing Gimli to the vanity. Gimli had no time to catch his breath before Legolas’ mouth was back on his, his fingers in his beard and gripping his jaw, his well defined hips rolling and thrusting against Gimli’s own straining sex. Gimli couldn’t keep their kiss going as his head fell back and he moaned low in his chest. 

Before he could blink, Legolas was on his knees, yanking hard at Gimli’s belt. Gimli’s mind short circuited, and didn’t come back online until his jeans were unzipped and Leg had his hands fisted at the hem, ready to pull. His own hands shot out to grab his wrists.

“Whoa, whoa! Legolas, darlin’, here? Now?” Gimli looked around. The walls were concrete and the door was solid, but unlocked. Could it lock? As if reading his mind, Legolas rolled his eyes fondly, stood, and crossed to the door. He locked it, and came back to him. Before he knelt, he crouched, and began unlacing his military boots. 

“Gimli, we’ve been seeing one another for months. We’re serious about this, we both know it. So why not here? Why not now?” He kicked the boots off and knelt before him again. He gripped Gimli’s jeans, looking up at him in a way that nearly did Gimli in then and there. “I want you, Gimli. I want to have you like this. Say no, and I’ll stop right now, and wait till we’re home.”

Gimli swallowed. “I don’t want to say no.”

Legolas grinned. “Then don’t.” He yanked Gimli’s pants down to pool around his ankles, the metal belt buckle clanking against the floor. Gimli groaned in relief, his cock bobbing in its tent as it slipped free of his tight pants. He watched Legolas swallow before he reached to grip him through his boxer briefs. Gimli hissed. 

“I really wouldn’t unless you want this to end before it starts.” He groaned. Legolas smirked and nodded, and eased Gimli’s underwear over his hips to join his pants around his ankle. The smirk faded as he came face to face with Gimli’s cock, and he wrapped a careful hand around it. 

“Not to be cliche, or stroke your ego past its already concerning size,” said Legolas. “But you are actually huge.”

Gimli snorted, but he was blushing. “Ta, darlin’. Too much for you?” He waggled his eyebrows in challenge. Legolas grinned, releasing him to pull his hair back with a scrunchie. 

“You insult me, Gim.” Legolas reached around him to grip his well-toned glutes, and tugged him forward a bit. He wet his lips, an innocuous gesture that had Gimli moaning. Legolas leaned in, looked up, and held his gaze as he ran his tongue up the underside of his cock. His breath stuttered and caught in his lungs. Legolas smiled to himself, and the grip on his ass tightened. Gimli watched, helplessly aroused, as his partner parted his lips wide and pulled him in. 

Gimli groaned, the world around him narrowing to just them in this moment. Legolas gave him no time to catch his breath as he worked him. Legolas bobbed back and forth as he took Gimli all the way in, no small feat as it was. He felt himself near the back of the other man’s throat, and the swallow as he was pulled in past Legolas’ gag reflex. The fingers on his ass were leaving bruises and they held him fast, sometimes pulling and sometimes pushing with the rhythm. Legolas was humming around him, the vibrations from the throat around him only heightening the experience. 

Legolas paused as his lips came to rest flush against the nest of russet hair at the base of his cock. Gimli was tense, shaking, holding himself back with all he had. Legolas took one hand off his ass to lightly grip his balls, rolling them gently. Gimli’s head fell back and he moaned, loud. He felt Legolas take one breath, and then two, and then he was moving, fast and hard. Gimli grunted as Legolas worked him in and out, sometimes completely, before swallowing him back in. He dropped a hand to Legolas’ hair, pulling at it in a plea for mercy. He couldn’t last, he wouldn’t last, not like this. 

His hips were shaking with the last threads of his restraint, but Legolas was urging him on, pushing him into his mouth with the hand on his arse. Gimli grunted, concerned he would hurt Legolas if he took over. At last, though, he couldn’t hold back. His hips twitched forward, and Legolas moaned and nodded, and it was all Gimli needed. The hand left his aching balls to grip his ass again, and Gimli shifted his grip in Legolas’ hair to hold his head as gently as possible. His hips jerked forward into the warmth of his lovers’ mouth, and his little thrusts grew harder and bolder as he felt himself slipping towards the edge. Legolas was moaning around his cock as he thrust into his mouth, his hips snapping forward practically of their own accord. He was so close, so close, his thrusts becoming erratic, his balls drawing up.

Legolas opened his eyes, and looked up at him, holding his gaze. He felt the hand on his ass move to dip between the cleft of his cheeks, and brush against his entrance once, twice-

Gimli yelled as his orgasm took him hard, his grip on Legolas’ head becoming bruising. Legolas, for his part, gripped him hard, and swallowed down everything Gimli had to offer. As the initial shock faded, and aftershocks rocked his body, Legolas tapped him rapidly on the ass. Gimli let go immediately, and Legolas released him, panting and gasping for air. Gimli fell to his knees, his legs shaking from exertion, and pulled Legolas close to him. 

Legolas wrapped his arms around Gimli and kissed him, not as urgent as before but with no less heat. Gimli groaned to taste himself on Legolas’s lips and tongue, and pulled away smirking.

“Sorry for ever doubtin’ ya, lad.” 

“I accept apologies in the form of mind blowing sex back at my place.” Legolas’ voice was hoarse, and his mouth looked absolutely ravaged,but he was grinning widely. Gimli felt himself beginning to harden again already. 

He leaned forward to kiss Legolas, completely and softly but with the promise of more. “Lead the way.”

Legolas was up like a rocket, yanking off the designer outfit and putting it away on hangers. Gimli did his best not to stare at Legolas’ obvious arousal, but the promise of a good time was plain to see in the harsh fluorescent light. Legolas caught his stare and wiggled his hips, distracting Gimli further. “See something you like?”

Gimli stroked his beard. “Aye, ah migh’.”

Legolas licked his lips. “That accent is an unfair advantage, you know,” he crossed the space in two strides, leaning into Gimli’s face. “It does unspeakable things to me.”

“Not very unspeakable in your underwear, lad.” Gimli snorted, glancing at the tent between them poignantly. Legolas shrugged, unconcerned. “Finish getting dressed or we’re never getting out of here.”

Legolas blinked at him, doe eyed, biting his lips. “Yes, sir.”

Gimli flushed and shoved at him. “Haud yer wheesht and get goin’!” Legolas laughed as he sashayed away. He yanked on thin sweatpants like the ones Arwen had on, a ratty old hoodie that Gimli was about 85% certain was his, last he checked, another pair of thicker sweats, and old beat up Ugg boots. The pants did the bare minimum to keep him decent. He pulled his hair into a sloppy fishtail braid as he waited for Gimli.

Gimli pulled up his underwear and jeans, refastening his clothes. His hair was a mess, so he tugged the mid-back length strands into a tight bun that he knew wouldn’t last the hour. All things considered, they both looked fairly put together-

“Ach, Legolas, yer neck!”

“My neck?” Legolas came over to the mirror. “What about my- Gimli!”

Legolas’ neck was littered with hickies and scrapes, irritated by Gimli’s beard and tongue piercing. It was purple, red, and yellow in some places. Legolas was staring open mouthed at his reflection, and Gimli felt himself grow concerned. 

“Leg? Legolas? Ah’m sorry, darlin’, ah really am. I didn’t mean to get so carried away, it was my fault, I’m-”

“Gimli!” Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not mad. Not even a little bit. I promise.”

“But-”

“Nope! No apologies. I wanted this,” he turned to his reflection, and Gimli could see him smiling as he touched careful fingers to the marks. “I love them.”

“Ah’m still sorry.” Gimli grumbled, more than a little angry with himself. Legolas regarded him speculatively. 

“You don’t like it rough so much, huh?”

Gimli shook his head. “Naw. I don’ like losing my control.”

Legolas nodded, but his gaze was still curious. “We can talk about that. But, really Gimli, I did want this. If I didn’t, believe me when I say I wouldn’t have let you.” Gimli nodded. Legolas leaned down and placed a kiss on his head. “C’mon, let’s dip before the shoots over so we can dodge my father. And Tauriel, too. Smug little brat. Grab my tea mug? Thanks, by the way, it was perfect.”

Gimli smiled at him as his mood lightened. He grabbed the tea, and the large metal makeup case labelled “LASGALEN- OSCAR DE LA RENTA”. It was heavier than he was expecting, but nowhere near heavy enough to phase him. Legolas wrapped the scarf Gimli had brought around his neck, tucking it into the hoodie. They strode from the room, relieved to find the hallway empty as the shoot progressed. They had made it to the counter to check themselves out when a nasally voice cut through the calm quiet. 

“Well, well, look what last season dragged in.”

Legolas rolled his eyes, not looking up from the paperwork. “You know, Hal, that would only work as an insult if I were with a different company.”

“I know, that’s why I’m practising. Tick-tock and all that jazz.”

Legolas tensed, and Gimli frowned. They turned to face Haldir, who stood before them in sweats of his own. He must have been between sets, because his makeup was still in place. Gimli noticed with a wince that Legolas’ lipstick was long worn off, and his eyes were faintly smudge. Idly, Gimli wondered if his cock was maroon now.

Legolas looked tired and angry, and was clearly making no bones to hide it. He was still assessing Haldir for a brief moment with a gaze so cold and disdainful one would think he was looking at a spot of black mold on his ceiling. Suddenly, he lunged forward, his long stride clearing the distance in under a second as he crowded into Haldir’s face. The other man took a stumbling step back, and for the first time Gimli realized Legolas had at least four inches in height on Haldir. 

Legolas thrust his face within an inch of Haldir’s. “Listen to me, and listen very closely, you disgusting, annoying little bug,” Legolas hissed. “We both know my days here are numbered, which means my obligation to treat you with respect is on the way out, too. Which means there are no consequences for anything I could ever want to say to you. But luckily for us, I want nothing to do with your sadistic, manipulative ass. I don’t care about you, or your sad little life. Now, I am going home to get happily railed past the point of consciousness by the man I adore, and you are going to stay here, posing for cameras on the same runway you’ve been posing on for nearly a decade like the dusty old piece you are. Have a shitty day.”

Legolas breezed past Haldir toward the elevator, and Gimli followed brusquely. Haldir’s expression had morphed from shock to pure rage as they climbed into the elevator. He whirled to face them, snarling. “If you think this ends with your termination, Las, you are beyond mistaken. I can and will make your life hell outside of this building, do not push me, bitch.”

Legolas waved his fingers at him. “Toodles, Hal.”

The doors slid shut on Haldir’s livid face, and Legolas sighed, practically deflating. 

“That’s gonna bite me in the ass, isn’t it?”

Gimli snorted. “I’d like to see him try. I’m always happy to let you fight your own battles, Leg, but say the word and he’ll swallow his own teeth.”

Legolas smiled at him, tender and grateful and gently amused. “I know, mon coeur. And I thank you,” he leaned in and kissed him. “But he’s an insect, and not worth it. I won’t let him be worth it. C’mon,” they stepped off the elevator as it dinged, and walked through the foyer of intern judgement, hand in hand. “I want to go home, get naked, and then absolutely destroy a carton of House Lo Mein from GiGi’s.”

Gimli chuckled. “Aye, darlin’. Sounds perfect.”

\------------------------------

Legolas and Gimli wasted no time as they crossed the threshold into Legolas’ apartment. By the time they reached the kitchen, there was a trail of clothing from the door to the sink. Legolas fumbled to drop the teabag in the trash and the tumbler in the sink, as Gimli was already pressed up behind him, bare chested and pressing kisses along his bare spine. Legolas twirled out of his grip, stumbling with none of his usual grace out of his second pair of sweats. Gimli was already only in his boxer briefs, and chased after him, grinning. They slammed against Legolas’ bedroom door, lips locked and moaning as he struggled to find the handle. Legolas could feel Gimli growing hard, pressing into his thigh, and gave up his doorknob quest to palm Gimli through his pants, stroking him slowly. Gimli’s breath caught low in his throat, and Leg grinned against his lips. Gimli’s hand shot out, twisted the errant doorknob, and they both fell through the door into the bedroom. 

Once again Legolas twisted out of Gimli’s grip to sprint for the bed, tossing himself onto his disheveled comforter. He’d woken up late this morning and hadn’t bothered to make the bed. He flopped onto his back, arms over his head, and met Gimli’s eyes. He was still standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the kitchen light. Legolas felt his breath catch in his lungs. His auburn curls, that well trimmed and still tastefully bushy beard, those broad shoulders, his immense biceps and barrel chest, both scrawled with beautiful knotwork ink, and those hands, those paws he had, massive in their own right, what they could do-

“You’re beautiful.” Legolas breathed. Gimli blinked.

“Wha’?” And that accent.

“I said,” Legolas propped himself up on his elbows. “That you are the most stunning man I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful, Gimli.”

He was blushing to his roots. “Aw, come off it now.”

Legolas smirked, and rolled his hips. “Would love to, darling. Planning on it actually. So, get over here.”

Gimli didn’t need to be told twice. He crossed the room, losing his underwear as he did, and Legolas licked his lips to see him already as hard as he’d been before their dressing room encounter. Gimli climbed onto the bed, and Legolas flipped onto his side to face him. He was struck, suddenly, by the undeniable fact that Doctor Gimli Durinson was finally in his bed. His grin felt wide enough to split his face. He reached out, almost shyly, and wrapped a lock of Gimli’s hair around his finger. “Hey, you.”

Gimli grabbed his hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing and nuzzling his palm. “Hey there.”

Legolas smiled, and pulled Gimli’s face to meet his. He rolled them over, straddling Gimli’s muscled hips. He wiggled back until he had Gimli’s erection snugged in the cleft of his still clothed ass. Gimli was breathing heavily, and Legolas grinned. He rolled his hips, rubbing his own erection against the hair that trailed from navel to cock. He rolled once, twice, three times, testing Gimli’s restraint, and rubbing himself out on his lover’s body. After the fourth thrust, Gimli shot up, holding Legolas to his chest as he flipped them over. Legolas was slammed gently against the mattress, and he giggled at the handling. His mirth turned to a sharp gasp of arousal, though, as Gimli tugged his underwear down his hips. His cock slapped against his stomach as it was freed, aching and dripping precum, and he groaned low in his chest. 

Gimli tossed his discarded pants off the bed, and turned back to gaze at Legolas. Rarely had Legolas ever found himself feeling shy in bed; while he knew most men (and women) thought him attractive, for the first time he couldn’t help but worry that Gimli wouldn’t see what they saw. Where Gimli was broad, deep, beautifully hairy and inked and pierced through, with muscles that moved with purpose and control, Legolas was long, toned sinew and lean muscle wrapped in pale skin. Hell, even his ears were long and oddly pointed. They were complete inverses, and Legolas felt himself begin to worry that Gimli would look at him, at all he was and could ever offer, and find him lacking. 

Legolas had never had a fantastic poker face in bed. Gimli caught his eye and smiled warmly, leaning over to kiss him. His hands trailed down Legolas’ ribcage, blunt fingers carefully brushing across sensitive nipples. Legolas’ breath stuttered, and Gimli grinned against his lips. He rubbed gentle circles on pebbled flesh, leaned down to run his studded tongue across one. Legolas whimpered, hips bucking up, but Gimli held himself just far enough away that it was futile. His hands continued their journey downwards, running carefully through the smattering of course hair, darker than his head but much lighter still than Gimli’s own. Carefully, Gimli ran a pointer finger along the underside of his straining cock, and Legolas could have sobbed. He was coiled tight, the potential for what was coming so tantalizingly near but held just out of his reach. 

“Gimli, please,” Legolas’ hips jerked again. “Please touch me.”

Gimli kissed him again, and wrapped his broad hand around Legolas. His thumb, calloused and rough, ran gently over the shrouded tip, teasing the weeping slit. Legolas was moaning, growing louder and louder as Gimli began to stroke him firmly, just enough to appease his body, but nowhere near firmly enough to provide any release.

He was so entranced by those fingers he didn’t notice Gimli shifting lower, and was caught off guard for the next gentle assault on his fraying nerves. Legolas choked on a shout as Gimli ducked down and licked up his shaft. When he moved lower still, and that clever, studded mouth set to work on his balls, Legolas shot up off the bed with a yell, hands flying to grip Gimli’s curls. He dragged Gimli off of him by the hair, pulling him into a messy kiss that was more tongue and teeth than lips. Gimli smirked, and reached down to jerk him hard once more. Liquid lightning seized the base of his spine, and Legolas bit down on a shriek. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do so much longer, so reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from his partner’s.

“Gimli,” he gasped. “Gimli, wait.”

Gimli grunted, hips stilling. His eyes met Legolas’, who delighted in seeing those deep brown eyes filled with desire, pupils blown wide with lust for him. 

Legolas blushed. “Um, this is a bit embarrassing. But you deserve to be warned.”

“Uh,” Gimli was staring at him like he’d just told him he firmly believed the earth was flat. “What are you talking about?” He paused. “Are you, uh, that is..do you have, um, anything?”

“What?” Legolas paused. “Oh! No, I don’t have anything contagious. But we should still use a condom. No, uh, it’s nothing so serious. I just, erm…” he trailed off, blushing in earnest, and Gimli jostled him a bit.

“C’mon, then, out with it.” 

Legolas focused on the framed photo art set of the French countryside behind him. “I am, uh, a screamer, as they say.” He cleared his throat, still not meeting Gimli’s gaze. Gimli snorted a bit, grinning, clearly very amused by this apparent confession. 

“Leg, darlin’, ah’m sure it’s not-”

“That bad?” Legolas met his gaze, mildly amused at his own expense. “Oh, it is. You’ll see, I’m sure.”

Gimli shrugged, still smiling. “I suppose I will. Now, where were we?” 

After that, words were scarce. They shared breath, hot and gasping and needy as they prepared one another. Legolas worked Gimli carefully, stroking him firmly and slowly as Gimli undertook that somewhat more arduous task of preparing Legolas. He had to admit, he was thrilled and touched Gimli was taking his time with this part. While he may be longer than Gimli, he’d never been with a man as thick as his partner was. Gimli’s cock was thick and heavy in his grip, and Legolas shivered with excitement. 

Gimli reached into the bedside table at his direction, palming the glass jar of lubricant he had ordered weeks ago from his favorite intimate shop. Gimli favored him with a look, equal parts amused and exasperated. Legolas shrugged, grinning unabashedly. So what if he had ordered a special lube in anticipation for his first (second, third, fourth…) time with Gimli? He had nothing to hide. Gimli grabbed a condom, too, and set to task.

He dipped two fingers into the jar, and bent Legolas’ knee up to his chest. It came to rest over Gimli’s shoulder, and he leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth. Legolas moaned, softly at first but with growing ardor as Gimli’s tongue piercing flicked at his sensitive skin. His hands came up to twine in Gimli’s curls, burying deep. He was utterly lost in the rhythms of his lover’s tongue, that when the first touch came, gently pressing at his entrance, he gasped loudly. His hips shuddered, and he attempted to thrust down onto Gimli’s fingers. He was held fast by the muscular body pinning his, though. He writhed under his partner, grinding their cocks together. Gimli grunted, thrusting back, and the heat that lanced up his spine had Legolas’ mouth falling open in a soundless moan. Gimli’s hips moved with his fingers in small thrusts and circles, and little by little Legolas opened for him. By the time Gimli had his first finger in, Legolas was incapable of thought, and the only sounds falling from him were moans, whines, and Gimli’s name, whispered like a prayer. 

Gimli came up to kiss him, and Legolas nipped and licked into his mouth. Gimli moaned, but it was drowned in Legolas’ shout as his second finger began working it’s way in. Legolas grit his teeth, and his breath hissed out of him, but he was thrusting down on Gimli’s fingers, so his lover didn’t stop.

The first real scream came as Gimli experimentally spread and closed his fingers inside Legolas, carefully scissoring him open. As he was moving in deeper, he brushed that bundle of nerves deep inside him, and Legolas seized still, his abdominals standing out as he tensed. Gimli paused, brushing over the spot a second time, and Legolas yelled. Loud. His cock twitched, and another drop of precum leaked out of the taller man. The yell faded to moaning, then grunts as he worked himself more open on Gimli’s still hand. One arm was thrown over his eyes, but as Gimli brushed his spot again, it flew up to grip the pillow he was laying on. He looked up, and saw Gimli grinning impishly. He seemed to think making Legolas yell and writhe was great fun.

Legolas was inclined to agree. But he knew he would get louder yet, and then Gimli would see why he had warned him. 

At last, Gimli had three fingers moving in and out of him with ease, and the usual burn had faded into something deep and delicious, a slow blaze that was beginning to consume him. 

“Gimli,” Legolas was slurring, his voice hoarse already. “Gimli, please, I won’t last. I can’t take much more.”

“Aye, that makes two of us,” Gimli shifted. “Hand me the condom.”

Legolas grabbed the little square, but tore it open himself and rolled it onto Gimli carefully. His lover was throbbing, harder than steel and hot to the touch. Legolas leaned up, practically folding himself in half, and smirked as Gimli’s eyes widened at his flexibility. He kissed Gimli, mouth open and tongue running along the roof of his mouth, and revelled in the deep groan he won from Gimli. 

“My gods, Legolas, you, you-!”

Legolas huffed a laugh. “Aye,” he smirked, and drew Gimli’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently. “Me.”

Gimli snarled, and pushed him down. He dipped his fingers back in the jar, and coated his cock and Legolas’ opening. Legolas shifted down toward Gimli, and looked up at him through hooded eyes. He’d been waiting for this since they met at the club, since he first had that gorgeous body in his arms. 

Gimli leaned down, sealing them in another kiss, and pushed into him that first bit. Legolas grunted, one arm leaving its death grip on the pillow to bury itself in Gimli’s mane of hair again. His grip tightened with each roll, each little thrust as Gimli worked to seat himself fully in him. Each inch gained tore an increasingly louder noise from Legolas. After one particularly vicious shout, Gimli paused. 

“Are you ready for this? Yer tight as fuck, I don’ want tae hurt you.”

Legolas snarled, fisting the hand at Gimli’s scalp. “If you stop now, Durinson, I will shave you down and wear this hair as a scarf.”

Gimli grinned. “Right, then. Hang on, darlin’, nearly there.”

Legolas grit his teeth, doing his best to keep his voice normal so as to not alarm Gimli. He’d always been like this, loud and vocal, but he’d never been able to be this comfortable about it. Gimli wasn’t disturbed or turned off, wasn’t covering his mouth or suggesting a gag. Legolas smiled, and that bright, hot feeling Gimli stirred in him burned all the brighter in that moment. Gimli slid in the last inch, and they both moaned aloud at the feeling. Legolas exhaled and felt his body loosening to accommodate the formidable stretch. 

Legolas shook around Gimli’s shaft, and could feel himself becoming undone. Never before had he felt so full, so grounded and yet so alite. And then Gimli began to move. 

And Legolas’ world shifted. 

At first it was little strokes, as if to test the waters, but as Legolas met him thrust for thrust, Gimli picked up the pace. One hand fell to grip his hip, and the strength of that hand was such that Legolas knew there would be light bruising the next day. The other hand braced against the bed beside his head, and Legolas wrapped a hand around Gimli’s wrist. Soon, Gimli was thrusting harder, pulling out almost entirely before rolling his hips back into Legolas like a thunderstorm rolls along a plain, deep and earthy and sure of every motion. Where other men had merely slammed into him faster and faster, equating speed to power, Gimli moved with precision, making sure to roll over that particular spot deep inside each time he bottomed out. The slower rhythm was building up a burning pressure inside Legolas, one that prickled at the base of his cock and spine, and had his balls pulling tight against him. He felt tears begin to prick his eyes, and was soon crying out in tandem with Gimli’s thrusts. He began to babble, and knew he wouldn’t last long. 

“Gimli, Gimli, please, ai Gimli,” he sobbed, his back arching off the bed and his heart slamming in his throat. “I cannot, I must, please, please, tell me, tell me you’re close.”

Gimli grunted, and his thick burr was nearly indecipherable. “Aye, darlin’, aye, ah’m close, ah promise, jus’ hang on fer me,” he leaned in to kiss him, and then to trail bruising, biting kisses down his neck. “Yer so gorgeous, so beau’iful, yer a vision, ah’m the luckiest man alive, ah swear-”

Legolas’ breath was coming hard and fast, and his cock ached with his impending release, but he could feel Gimli’s hips starting to stutter, to snap into him faster than he could quite control. Just a little more, then. He brought his other leg up to fall open across the bed, spreading himself as much as he could so Gimli could better take his pleasure. Words were spilling from him in whines and cries and sobs, his voice was ratcheting higher and higher and he couldn’t care one bit.

“Yours, yours, I’m yours, Gimli,” he panted, then shrieked as Gimli bit into the pulse point in his neck. The burning in his spine became red-hot steel branding him from the inside out, and his hips began spasming of their own accord. “Gimli, I can’t, I’m going to, Gimli-”

Gimli nodded against him. “Ah know, ah’ve got you, Legolas, jus’ let go.”

Legolas was writhing under him, practically thrashing as his release threatened. The leg not over Gimli’s shoulder hooked itself over his hip instead, clutching Gimli in a vice as his heel pressed into the broad and thick arse pounding into him. “Ai, ai, Gimli, you, please, please-”

Gimli released his neck, pounding into him faster now, but not any less deep, his own thrusts now belying his fraying control and swiftly approaching release. Gimli caught his gaze, and held it. He smiled, and the piercings above his eyebrow shifted as he smiled softly at him. His eyes were deep, filled with passion, and ardor, and reverence for this. For them. For him, Legolas.

Dare he say, filled with love.

“Come fer me, darlin’.”

Legolas’ orgasm ripped through him like lightning, setting every nerve ablaze. A scream tore itself from his body in a howl as his back arched off the bed like a bow being drawn. He clutched Gimli’s shoulders in talons, and knew he was leaving angry red lines on the inked skin. He felt the stream of his essence on his upper chest, and knew there were likely ropes of it on him, on Gimli, in that red, red beard. 

Thought was beyond him as Gimli came at last, just after him. Legolas gasped as Gimli gripped his hips and held them flush together as he emptied himself into him. He was grunting and groaning, his brows drawn together and eyes closed as he let himself be lost in the sensation. At length, he collapsed on top of Legolas, caring little for the sticky mess between their bodies. They lay in the dark (when had it gotten so dark?), panting, attempting to recover. Legolas winced as he swallowed. His throat was sore from the workout it had gotten all day, in the bedroom and dressing room, and desperately needed water. However, his limbs refused to move. In fact, his leg was still over Gimli’s shoulder. 

After a minute, or maybe longer, Legolas had no sense of time in this blissfully dark cocoon, Gimli shifted. Carefully, very carefully, he pulled out of Legolas, gently bending the leg off of his shoulder. Legolas winced a bit, and knew he wouldn’t be able to walk very well for a few reasons tomorrow. Or sit properly. But that was a concern for tomorrow. Gimli stood to discard the condom, disappearing into the bathroom. Legolas’ eyes drifted shut, and he let the sounds of his partner puttering around wash over him. He’d never given a thought to such concepts as domesticity before, but now, he found his mind wandering.

Gimli returned with a glass of water, ibuprofen, and a wet washcloth. Legolas felt tears prick his eyes anew, and hoped the darkness hid them. 

Gimli reached over and turned on the bedside light, and Legolas damned his practicality. Gimli did not mention the little tears tracking down his cheeks, though, merely wiped them away with a gentle touch and a smile. He ran the cloth over Legolas cheeks, and then set to cleaning up the mess that was his torso. Legolas was pretty sure he managed to come in his own hair, which was truthfully impressive. His neck was certainly dirty. Gimli chuckled, and Legolas quirked an eyebrow at him, still too sore yet for words.

“Quite the finale, there, darlin’,” Gimli grinned, and his own voice was still rough and more accented than usual. “I confess, I wasn’t fully prepared for what you meant by screamer, despite your very thoughtful warning.” 

Legolas blushed, but shrugged. He propped himself up on his elbows and drained the glass of water. He spoke then, but his voice was ravaged. “It’s not usually that loud, I will confess. But it has been known to happen.”

Gimli smirked. “Yer poor neighbors.”

“Oh, they all rightfully hate me. Especially Figwit. Poor man lives right below me.” They shared laughter at that, and Legolas did his best to get out of bed. He stumbled like a newborn foal, and nearly collapsed into Gimli’s arms. “My gods, Gimli, what the hell did you do to me.”

Gimli bit his lip. “Ye haven’t even seen yer neck yet.”

Legolas laughed, and it was bright and merry and not a little impish. “I think I’ll save a full examination for the shower I plan on taking after dinner. You still want Chinese?”

Gimli smiled. “Tha’s good fer me. What time is it, anyway?”

Legolas shrugged as they limped into the kitchen, not bothering with clothes. “Dunno. Hopefully not too late. Why, got somewhere to be tonight?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Hot date?”

“I’ve had enough inferno for one day, thank ye,” Gimli grabbed glasses for them both and set to filling them with water. “I just didn’t want to keep you up waiting on me to head home.”

Legolas hummed, plucking a few grapes off the bunch that sat in a bowl on the island. He popped one into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Do you need to head home tonight?”

“Eh?”

“Do you have to go back to your place? You have a change of clothes here from when I washed them after we got caught in the rain a few weeks back. I’ve got a spare toothbrush, all that stuff. Any pets that need you?”

Gimli shook his head. “Jus’ my cousin's grumpy old turtle until he gets back from Finland, and he already ate for the day. Nah, darlin’, I don’t need to go back to my place tonight.”

Legolas grinned, and held a grape up to Gimli’s mouth as he brought the water over. Legolas smirked as Gimli’s tongue brushed his fingers, but only to keep up appearances. For the first time in a very long time, Legolas felt fully sated. He’d had a high sex drive since he hit 19, and too few had been able to keep up. Gimli outpaced them all, and then some. 

Legolas smiled to himself as they bent over the menu in front of them. This was new, too. This careful step into more than sex, into that domestic arena. He’d never asked a partner to stay the night before. No one had ever been more than a fling, not even Haldir. But he knew, inside of him, deep in his soul, that Gimli was so much more than any of them. Tonight had been testament to that. No other had ever cared so much, taken the time to check in before, during, even after. Gimli had cleaned him up, had treated him as gently as he could. And, during, by the gods; never before had he screamed like that. He owed Figwit a muffin basket, maybe a free salon day. And he ought to look into soundproofing rooms, how much insulation like that cost.

In this moment, though, Legolas let his thoughts drift to Chinese food, and if he could tempt Gimli to watch Mamma Mia! with him while they ate. And after, what shower gel he’d use, which shampoo, if he needed beard oil, and so forth. Gimli wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close, and Legolas smiled. There would be time. Time for all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is one I've been itching to write since this fic began, and was a huge part of me committing to write it at all. So, it may be about a two week wait for it, but I hope it's worth it. Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and views.


	14. In the Deep (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimli meets the family. A rally is held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Let me start off by saying I'm sorry for the delay in this chapter. I never thought it would take me so long to finish it, and yet. Life is funny that way. But, with this quarantine going on, I'm hoping to be able to write a bit more than usual. That being said, this is my final semester and I have five courses, so we'll see. Fingers crossed! I hope all of you are in good health, and staying safe and inside. Do your part to flatten the curve!
> 
> Warnings:  
-explicit sexual activities  
-crowded events going poorly

“Good morning, Mr. Olgate, sir, I have Saul Armen on line 2 for you.”

Benny Olgate, chief contractor under the New York branch of O.R.C., grunted in acknowledgement in the general direction of his assistant. He downed the last of his coffee, and spun the rickety chair around to pick up the phone. He flicked the matted, sticky cord away from his face as he answered. 

“Olgate. What do you want?”

“Hello, Benjamin. I’m calling regarding tonight’s...festivities.”

If oil had a voice, Benny supposed it would sound a lot like Mr. Armen’s. Slippery-smooth and deep. Shadowed, if you will. But who was he to judge? That voice on his shitty landline phone meant a fat paycheck and a good time. 

He snorted. “Yeah, I figured you would.”

“Is everything in place?”

“Yes. The equipment is test firing now. By the time those hippie fucks start showing up, we’ll have at least a quarter of the first block done, no muss no fuss.”

“Excellent, excellent,” the voice oozed satisfaction like sewage slipped into storm drains. “And the, ahem, insurance policy we discussed last week?”

Benny eyed the sleek black briefcase, bolted shut and padlocked, resting underneath his desk. “Always better to have coverage and not need it, than need it and not have it, am I right?”

“Oh make no mistake, Mr. Olgate,” Mr. Armen’s tinny voice still struck an ice pick into his heart when it grew dark with plot and deceit, as it so often did. “I fully intend for you to need it. Those trees will fall and that foul park will burn by any means necessary. Are we clear?”

Benny Olgate blinked. “Crystal, sir.”

The line went dead.

\------------------

Legolas woke up slowly, gently, not from his harsh alarm or his insistent birds, for once, but from the shifting of something warm and soft under his head. He blinked his eyes open, and his jaw cracked open in a wide yawn before he could stop it. When he tried to roll away from the warm mass, he found he couldn’t; a large hand was spanning his lower back, holding him against what he finally registered as a broad, hairy chest.

Gimli’s chest.

He grinned to himself, and lifted his head to prop his chin on Gimli’s right pectoral. It was firm under his neck, and Legolas hummed to himself. Gimli looked to still be asleep, and he fought down a giggle to hear the snores, soft but deep, echoing in the room. He reached up with the hand that had been wrapped around Gimli’s hips, and ran gentle fingers through the sleep-mussed beard on his chin. It wasn’t a terribly long beard, it fell to maybe his collarbone if the strands were pulled taught, but the curls brought it to just out from his chin. It was thick, though, not rough and scratchy like other beards Legolas had experienced in bed or elsewhere. It was soft, well oiled and groomed, saved for some spots that looked crimped, as if they’d been braided and undone. Legolas could recall his beard looking different before they started dating. Maybe he braided it sometimes. 

He leaned up and brushed a gentle kiss on Gimli’s cheek, before carefully extracting himself from the knot they’d slept in. Gimli hummed in his sleep, rolled over, but sighed and did not wake. Leg wondered idly how much sleep he got during the school weeks and long semesters, and wagered it wasn’t nearly enough. 

He shrugged into the silk, knee length robe he’d picked up in Milan last winter and grabbed a pair of high socks from his drawer. He slipped them on and padded into the bathroom. He tended to necessities, washed his face, pulled his hair up into a sloppy bun, and set about waking up his apartment. He passed through the kitchen, flipping on the coffee maker, and setting the tea kettle on to boil. He grabbed the bird seed from its spot in the lower cabinets and shook it as he walked into the living room. He took the blanket off their cage, folding it as he listened to Athelas and Simbelmyne wake up, beeping and hopping about. He filled their bowls and refreshed their water, and they settled down as they ate.

He moved on to his plants next, filling the three watering cans he had with warm water, and dissolving the three different plant foods into each. He turned his sound system on low, humming along to Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ as he moved from ivy to fern to spider plant. He finished as the song ended, and replaced the cans under the sink. 

He checked the time, and was startled to realize it was nearly 10:30 am. 

Tonight was the biggest rally so far, the one the news crews were showing up for. The other three they squeezed in had been more minor— more for students and small activist groups. Leg knew from Aragorn that Greenpeace, Earthjustice, the Rainforest Alliance, Union of Concerned Scientists NYC chapter, and more would be turning out, along with students and concerned parties from all over. Their little effort was about to become national news. And he was partially responsible.

His posts were generating millions of views, likes, shares across all platforms. His tweets were being discussed on news outlets, in soundbites, in classrooms from what Bain had told him (none too happily). And for all the attention he was getting, Aragorn was getting it twice over. He’d been on Ellen, Conan, Late Night with Seth Meyer and more. Little university news shows and TedTalk alike. This was getting bigger than the three of them, much bigger, and tonight was going to mark the beginning of something huge. 

And possibly the end of his modelling career. 

Leg swallowed, and poured his tea. He dumped some coffee grounds, the dark roast he knew Gimli liked, into a filter and threw it on to brew. He wasn’t sure he was ready to think about the prospect of losing his job at Oscar de la Renta. He could take or leave being his father’s glorified number cruncher, but the modelling...That was his lifeblood. It had been, at least. For years all he had had to look forward to was the next shoot, that next hit of adrenaline being the center of attention, the flashing lights and bulbs, the after parties, after the after parties...What would he do when that was gone?

His train of thought derailed as his bedroom door creaked open, and Gimli shuffled out. He wore a massive hoodie, faded and very comfy looking, and his boxer shorts. Leg kept his apartment on the warmer side for the birds and plants, so despite the February chill, Gimli was practically over dressed. He raked his eyes over the muscular calves, hairy as the rest of him, and the broad feet. Gimli’s tread was heavy, but not threatening or rushed or anxious. Legolas took in all the little sounds of someone inhabiting his space alongside him, and privately reveled in the warm rush it gave him. In just one night, Gimli had turned him toward the bliss of domesticity. 

Gimli yawned. “G’mornin’ darlin’.” he mumbled, scratching his chest. Legolas came around the island to meet him, and grinned as Gimli eased him into strong arms. They wound around one another, one bending where the other stretched, and nothing had ever felt more natural to Legolas.

He pressed a soft kiss to Gimli’s lips, and marveled at the rub of mustache against his upper lip. He had never given a thought to beards or other facial hair before, but now he couldn’t imagine kissing a bare face ever again. He pulled back a scant inch, and pressed another kiss to Gimli’s nose. “Morning, babe. Hungry?”

Gimli hummed. “In a sense,” he smiled, roguish and teasing. “Yerself?”

“I could eat” Legolas nipped at Gimli’s lower lip and pulled away, dancing out of his arms. “Eggs?”

“Tease,” Gimli growled, following him into the kitchen. “Eggs are fine with me.”

“Coffee’s brewing for you now, I made half a pot. I have gluten-free bread if you want toast, but everyone who eats regular bread tells me it tastes weird so be warned. I’ve got some cereals and oatmeal, too,” he paused, and glanced around his kitchen. “My diet’s been pretty restrictive for a while, so I apologize that I don’t have much to offer you.”

Gimli shrugged. “Eggs will hold me, no worries. I may try your weird bread, though. Do you have celiac?”

Legolas shrugged. “No, but I haven’t eaten gluten regularly in so long that when I eat a lot of it, it bugs me, so I tend to stay away. Any allergies?”

“Nae,” Gimli paused, then grinned. “Except maybe too many leafy greens.”

Legolas laughed. “Ah, a carnivore then?”

“Aye, nothin’ better than meat.”

“Hmmm,” Leg peered into his freezer. “Oh, I have bacon, Bard gave me some weird maple rosemary cut for Christmas. Can you cook it?”

Gimli’s smile was sharp. “Five ways from Sunday, lad. Give her ‘ere.” 

And so they spent a comfortable half hour making breakfast together, and that warm, fuzzy feeling in Legolas’ solar plexus grew brighter and brighter. He scrambled their eggs with a dash of almond milk and some of the Jarlsburg he indulged in from time to time. He was liberal with the pepper, and tossed in scallions and garlic as an afterthought. He stood hip to hip with Gimli, who fried, turned, and drip-dried the bacon with an experts’ touch. Legolas set the platter of eggs on the island counter with two plates, then poured his tea and Gimli’s coffee and brought them over to sit next to the platter of bacon. They sat across from one another, and Legolas couldn’t help but stare as Gimli pulled his curls into a messy bun away from his food. 

Legolas flashed back to one of their first dates, when he’d blurted ‘How do you not get food in your beard when you eat?’ before he could stop himself. The blush that had crawled up his neck had been redder than the maroon button up he wore that evening. Gimli had laughed, not unkindly, but in that warm and booming way that Legolas had grown to adore. 

Now, he noticed how carefully Gimli speared his eggs, how he took nibbles of the bacon, not huge bites. He was fastidious about his beard, Legolas knew, and found it a personal delight to watch his purposeful, fluid movements. He had the best manners Legolas had ever seen, and he’d been raised in British high society with his father as his instructor.

His father. Legolas’ gut twisted, and his mouthful of tea went down sour. Gimli looked up, and his gaze pierced Legolas. 

“Something wrong, darlin’?”

Legolas sighed. “Just a little nervous, that’s all,” he pushed his eggs around his plate, acutely aware of Gimli’s eyes on him. “Everything changes after today, y’know? My job’s as good as gone, and I don’t quite know what that’ll do to me and father.”

Gimli nodded, looking pensive. He chewed and swallowed thoughtfully, before asking “Why do you call him that?”

Legolas blinked. “Pardon?”

“Yer Da, why do you call him Father? It seems very, ah dunno, cold. I’m no’ trying to judge, I’m just curious.”

“I dunno, really,” Legolas shrugged. “When I was little I called him Papa, then Père, and then just Father. I guess as I grew older, we grew apart. Very far apart. To be honest with you, we’re closer now than we’ve ever been; or at least since Maman passed, and it’s mostly Bard and Tauriel’s doing.”

Gimli stared. “Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s complicated. I don’t really want to get into it now, not today,” he reached across the table to grab Gimli’s hand. “It’s got to do with everything I went through before, and...yeah,” he finished lamely. “I’m sorry.”

Gimli squeezed his hand. “Ye’ve got nothing to be sorry for, darlin’. I don’t want tae pry or push. We can talk when yer ready.” 

Leg lifted Gimli’s hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across a knuckle. “Thank you, Gim.”

They resumed eating, and Legolas fed himself despite his lack of appetite. Usually when he was feeling this anxious, he didn’t bother eating. It tended to just upset him more. But, he knew Gimli would worry if he didn’t, so he ate his serving and was pleased to find it sat fine with him. 

He stood and brought their plates to the sink, rinsing them and leaving them for later. He turned to Gimli, seated at the table and sipping his coffee. 

“Gimli?”

“Leg?” He looked up and smiled.

Legolas smirked. “It’s almost noon. I am in desperate need of a shower. I imagine you are too, so do you want to go first?”

Gimli nodded. “Sure, but show me how it works? It’s got like 54 different knobs.”

Legolas rolled his eyes. “It has 4, and you’re dramatic. C’mon.” 

\----

Gimli followed Legolas through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He left the lights off, but adjusted the tint on the windows from the control fob near the door. Gimli whistled low.

“Now tha’s a neat trick.”

Legolas smiled. “I love natural light in the bathroom, and floor to ceiling windows. It was one of the only big renovation expenses I had done in this apartment, and it took ages to get the building management committee to clear it. The windows are one way only, and tinted for energy conservation and glare temperament.”

Gimli looked suitably impressed. “Don’ suppose you’ve still got the specs lying around? I’d love to show my urban engineering class.”

“I’ll rustle around tomorrow and try to find them,” Legolas leaned over and brushed a kiss on Gimli’s lips. “Anything to help my sexy engineering doctor man in his attempts to educate the youth of tomorrow.”

Gimli snorted. “Yer a downrigh’ menace, y’know that?”

“I’ve heard a rumor.” Legolas giggled. He turned to the shower, which Gimli couldn’t help but ogle. It spanned the entire rear wall, the one shared by the walk-in closet off the bedroom. It bent gently in the middle to follow the skeleton of the apartment, giving it a modern, artisanal feeling. The interior walls and floors were done in natural stone, raw slate by the looks of it. The shower head and knobs were a finely polished silver with matte black accents. The far end of the shower was a carved stone lounge seat, and the slats in the wall above it looked like they would produce waterfalls of water onto whoever sat there. He’d never seen a nicer, or more uniquely designed shower, and he idly took stock of it’s assemblage as Leg pulled the glass door open. 

Legolas bent over the threshold of the shower to turn the water on, and began to explain the different knobs, but Gimli found his attention falling elsewhere. The silk robe Legolas was wearing had ridden up as he bent, and was giving Gimli an entirely unobstructed view of his partner’s arse. Granted, it wasn’t much of a view, as Legolas’ muscles and fat had more important places to be than his unfortunately boney rear, but the glance was all he needed to remember what he’d been doing with, in, and around that arse the night before. 

His cock began to stir in his boxers, and he glanced up at the bathroom clock. They didn’t have a lot of time, but they weren’t exactly in a rush, either. 

“Got that?” Leg turned to him.

Gimli grinned. “Not a word of it.” 

Legolas sighed, arms crossing over his chest. “Babe, really-”

“I guess I’ll just need a demonstration,” he shrugged, and began yanking off his hoodie. “If yer amenable to that.”

He dropped his hoodie on the floor, and looked up to see Legolas’ gaze raking over his body. Gimli knew he was attractive by some folks’ standards, even his own if he was being honest. But no one had ever looked at him like Legolas did. His stare was hungry, consuming him inch by inch, following the tracing lines and patterns of his ink, lingering on his pecs and biceps with the same predatory hunger that Gimli had seen in him during the shoot. Legolas’ gaze dropped down past his hips, and Gimli knew his arousal was becoming unignorably obvious, but he didn’t care in the slightest. Legolas raised his eyes to Gimli.

“I’m more than amenable. After you.” Legolas stepped aside to allow Gimli entrance into the shower, who paused only to pull his boxers off. He stepped under the spray, and turned to see Legolas untie his robe. The silk glided down his shoulders and off his body to pool on the floor at his feet. His hair came down next, and Legolas shook out the minute tangles before letting it drape down his chest. His neck, carved and gleaming alabaster, was framed in pale tresses that turned to burnished gold as he stepped under the water. 

Legolas tilted his head back and closed his eyes as the hot water worked through his hair. Gimli took the moment to appreciate the vision before him. For the first time, Gimli was able to truly appreciate their differences, and how well they fit one another. They’d never seen each other thus, as last night they’d both been far too distracted by other ends and their justified means. Now, he was free to look his fill. 

Legolas was tall, aye, taller than he usually dated, but not as rakishly thin as Gimli had once believed. The poor lad still had no arse to speak of, but his thighs and calves were toned with the muscles of one who ran often. The coarse hair between his legs, a shade or two darker than the hair on his head, was well trimmed and tidy. It was also the only hair on his body; his chest was bare, and if Gimli had to guess, he would assume it was waxed somewhat regularly. Gimli had no protest for this though, as he caught himself openly staring at Legolas’ impressive chest. It was easily the most muscular part of his body, if a bit uneven in its architecture. His pectorals, while not as full or corded as Gimli’s own, were well built. His biceps and triceps, too, were larger and thick with well defined muscle. Legolas did a lot more archery than he let on, to be built like that. His neck was slender, but not thin or brittle, and reflected the good posture that Gimli knew his partner was adamant about maintaining. 

Legolas opened his eyes as he stepped slightly out of the spray, and caught Gimli’s unabashed stare. He seemed to flush, but maybe that was just the heat from the shower. He looked at him through lowered lashes, lips parted gently. Gimli swallowed.

Legolas stepped toward him, and Gimli reached out to ease him into his arms. “See something you like?” Legolas murmured as he wound long, lithe arms around broad shoulders. Gimli trailed his lips along the sharp collarbone just in front of him.

“Mmm, aye,” he murmured, trailing gentle bites and kisses up and down Legolas’ neck. “A treasure more rare and beautiful than any precious jewel or fine garment.”

Legolas was red, a flush creeping up his neck and tinting the tips of his ears a deep blush. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, fighting a wide grin. “I didn’t realize I was dating a blind poet.”

“Blind?” Gimli blinked. “Aye, I’ll grant ye a poet, if I may boast, but ah’m not blind.”

“Oh no?” Legolas smirked. “Then you should know that between the two of us, you are the rare jewel,” he leaned in to kiss the shell of Gimli’s ear, and the shorter man groaned low at the touch. “Decadent and eye-catching and oh, so very gorgeous.”

Gimli’s breath stuttered in his chest, and he gripped Legolas’ arse tenderly. “A-aye?”

Legolas drew back just enough to meet his gaze, smoldering and playful. “Oh, aye indeed.” he leaned in to catch Gimli in a searing kiss, twining his fingers in Gimli’s sodden beard. He danced out of Gimli’s grasp a moment later, leaving him panting and aching. He reached into an alcove along the wall, and pulled out the softest looking sponge Gimli had ever seen, along with an unlabeled bottle that was just as likely to hold a draught of well-aged whiskey as it was bath soap. Legolas lathered the sponge before replacing the bottle and coming back to Gimli. He began scrubbing Gimli’s large pectorals in gentle rhythmic circles. 

“You are a vision, Gimli,” Legolas murmured, almost reverently. His eyes were fixated on the broad barrel chest before him; Gimli could almost feel the burning path that gaze traced, following the ink of his tattoos and the lines of well carved muscle. 

“I could stare at you for hours, for an entire day, and not have looked my fill. Everything about you is eye-catching to me, and my attention is pulled in so many directions I don’t know where to begin,” Legolas stepped aside a bit to let the water rinse the soap away from Gimli’s chest, but even the shock of the spray did little to pull him from the heady fog his mind seemed to have entered. Legolas’ voice was hypnotic, soothing in the best ways. What cut like a knife through the haze, though, was the mouth that ducked down to pull a nipple into its warmth. Gimli grunted, and Legolas pulled away with a sharp flick of his tongue. 

“I suppose that’s a good start.”

“Oh do ye now?” Gimli’s tongue felt heavy and thick with the tension in the shower, but the shreds of his focus were utterly interested in where Legolas was going with this.

“Hmm, I do,” Legolas smiled. “Your chest, Gimli,” he reached out, and ran first his elegant, long fingers and then soft, assured palms across the planes of thickly corded muscle. “Gods, there are no words for what it does to me,” he ducked and ran his tongue from sternum to collarbone, collected water droplets from the hair there. 

“It’s so broad, so powerful. I confess—,” Legolas flushed deeper, if that were possible. 

“— I’ve dreamt of seeing it bare for the longest time, since we first met, I think. Heaving under me, over me as it did last night, falling asleep on it,” a small pink tongue darted out to run across parted lips, and the sight had Gimli hauling Legolas’ mouth down to his for a searing kiss. “Even finishing on it, right in the valley of your chest. Since the club, that shirt, I’ve thought of it more than I should say.”

Gimli swallowed, hard. He backed Legolas toward the slate walls of the shower, but before that pale back could touch cold stone, they were spun with dexterity and deceiving strength, and Gimli felt chilled slate on his tailbone. He gasped, but it was swallowed in another kiss. 

“I’m not done, Gimli,” Legolas panted, smirking. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

For his part, Gimli was hard as steel, throbbing with need, and he knew that Legolas had taken notice at least five minutes ago. He growled, but Legolas pressed on.

“Your arms are just as beautiful, just as magnificent,” lithe fingers curled around his bicep, tracing the well-carved musculature there. Gimli had grown up working on a farm, and then helping his family with their physical careers and hobbies. He was fairly proud of his arms, and knew they were often the first thing people noticed about him. He smirked to himself, and flexed the muscle gently, earning a giggle from Legolas. The hands on his biceps trailed down, once again following the patterns of his ink. They came to rest on his hands, and Legolas lifted one up to his lips. “And your hands are yet another part of you that I find I don’t have words for.”

Legolas ran his lips gently along his palm, nuzzling his knuckles and the connecting tissue between each finger. Such a simple gesture, yet Gimli found it no less erotic than any other attention he’d had lavished on him. Legolas’ tongue darted out, gliding along the calloused heel of his palm before trailing up his thumb. A sucking kiss was pressed there, and Gimli felt his knees tremble a bit. He startled as Legolas bit into the soft skin between thumb and forefinger, before soothing the spot with more kisses. 

Legolas hummed. “Your hands are treasures, Gimli. I find myself utterly fixated on them, no matter where we are. Their size, their dexterity,” another nip, now at the padded base of his forefinger. “They are another part of you I found myself thinking about at the most inopportune moments— or the most opportune, once or twice,” 

The hand not gripping his wrist trailed inward from his hip, grazing the trail of red hair below his navel, following it down but not far enough to provide any relief. Gimli bit off a whine.

“And now that I know what they can do to me, I don’t think I’ll ever have peace of mind again.”

Gimli chuckled softly. “My sincerest apologies- ah!” He cut off with a gasp and then a deep groan as Legolas licked a path up his pointer finger before drawing its length into his mouth, sucking lightly before pulling away. Gimli’s head fell back against the wall with a dull thud. “Are ye having fun, there?”

“Yes, actually,” Legolas smirked. “Loads. Are you?”

Gimli snorted derisively. “Oh, aye. Loads.” he parroted. 

Legolas giggled. “I suppose I should put you out of your misery?” he reached down and gently gripped Gimli’s length, hard as steel and heavy between his legs. 

Gimli reached down as well, taking Legolas in hand where he was also aching with need. “Only if you let me put you out of yours.”

Legolas hummed, and Gimli watched the Adam's apple in that long neck bob gently with the sound. He licked his lips. They set a lazy, gentle pace, Legolas draped against Gimli, who was pressed to the shower wall. The soap from Legolas long-forgotten administrations clung to them in spots, and the water falling on them was just below volcanic. Gimli felt more relaxed than he ever had in a shower, even with his arousal trying to claw its way out of him. 

Legolas was panting in his ear, hips snapping to meet Gimli’s pace, which was picking up little by little. Gimli himself was thrusting into Legolas’ grip, and could feel them both starting to tremble. The steady pace was beginning to lose its surety, and in his fist, Legolas’ cock was starting to throb erratically. He moved his thumb to brush the leaking slit at the tip of Leg’s arousal as he jerked it’s length, once- twice- 

“Ah!” Legolas’ grip on his shoulder turned vice-like, and Gimli used the arm around his waist to hold him up as he shook through his orgasm. Legolas writhed and cried out— not as loud as the night before but no less enthusiastic. Gimli smothered a grin. His ego was certainly not suffering for his lover’s vocals. 

A moment later, Legolas quieted, still panting, but before Gimli could speak, he was being jerked off with vicious abandon, Legolas’ grip just shy of bruising. He couldn’t stop the groans and the cries that were ripped from his throat, and he came hard and white-hot not a minute later. His ears were ringing faintly, and he let the shower wall take his weight as he slumped against it, boneless and sated. 

There were fingers in his hair and beard a moment later, scrubbing him. Gimli chuckled. “Back to business as usual, then?”

Legolas snorted. “I think our little dalliance is about to make us very late. I have to stop by my father’s to collect Tauriel before we meet Aragorn.”

Gimli jerked in surprise. “Ye forget to mention that little detail this mornin’, Leg.”

“Close your eyes,” Legolas murmured, and Gimli did so his head could be tilted back under the water and rinsed. “I know, I forgot myself until we were climbing in here. And then I got very distracted, so really, this is entirely your fault.”

Gimi chuckled. “Aye, I’m sure.”

They made short work of the rest of their shower, washing away the sweat and essence of the previous night and that morning, and were soon bustling out of the apartment, a tote bag over each shoulder with the supplies Aragorn had instructed them to bring. Gimli elected to leave his stuff there, as he had every intention of coming back later that night. With little time to spare, they hopped on the train, and Gimli gulped internally. In a few minutes he’d be shaking hands with Legolas’ family, including Thranduil, the foreboding spectre he’d glimpsed at the shoot.

They reached the brownstone at which Legolas’ family lived in a little over half an hour, which put them at about ten minutes late to meet Tauriel. Gimli realized that Kili’s vehement assurance that he would attend the rally had less to do with familial support and more to do with his partner’s younger sister. 

Gimli was a man with a firm enough grasp of himself to not openly gawk at the grandiose house, but it was a near thing. The front steps were masterfully carved in light grey stone, three sets of seven steps each bracketed by banisters with intricate, woven designs, the likes of which Gimli had never seen wrought in common rock. The top most set of steps were crowned by two stags of bluestone, standing at attention. If Gimli tended towards whimsy, he would say they stood as if to protect the house, heads held high with purpose and ethereal grace. He was reminded of the lions that sat outside the New York Library. 

The house was ornately carved from the dark sandstone that named it, and unlike the other houses on the street, had vines reaching delicately up the trellises and corners of the house, draping itself along windowsills and curling itself into fanciful patterns as if to compliment the architectural work of the very structure. There was something almost intangible about the house, and Gimli briefly had the very amusing thought that he was about to meet Dracula, or be swept into the moor estate of Wuthering Heights. He climbed the steps with a small amount of trepidation, but found himself gently amused as Legolas reached out to brush the nose of the stag to the left. 

Legolas smiled back at him sheepishly. “This is Arcturus. And that’s Rigel. Tauriel named them when she was going through a constellation phase.”

Gimli chuckled. “They’re gorgeous pieces. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Legolas smiled softly, tentatively, and Gimli was struck by the notion that they were each as nervous as the other. He reached out to squeeze Legolas’ hand, and twined their fingers. Legolas bent down to press a quick kiss to his cheek, and they shared a smile before he turned to the door. He pushed the front door open with the ornate silver handle that looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel, not once faltering in his grip on Gimli’s hand. 

“Father! Bard! Tauriel! I’m here,” Legolas called out, and his voice echoed off the walls of the front hall. There were shoes of all sizes and styles piled on a rack by the door, but Legolas didn’t bother removing his boots, so neither did Gimli. They walked down the hall a bit before turning left into a massive open floor plan living room, with a sitting area just a bit further back, and a dining area beyond that, with doors in the far wall that presumably led into a kitchen. Sunlight was streaming into the room from massive bay windows. There was a young boy slumped on the couch playing a video game. 

“Hey Bain, where are Father and Bard?”

The boy, Bain, and yes, Gimli did now recall the boy from the holiday fair, barely spared Legolas a glance. “Dunno. Kitchen? Study? Who’s this?”

To his credit, Legolas didn’t even stutter. “My boyfriend, Gimli.”

That got Bain to pause his game. He swiveled in his seat and gave the pair his full regard, and Gimli was reminded of his own nephews’ shrewd, assessing stares. The gifts of children never stop, they say. 

“This guy?” Bain asked, archly. Then, his eyes widened. “Hey, wait, you’re the dude from the holiday fair!”

Gimli smiled. “Aye, that’s me. Good to see you again.”

Bain blinked. “You’re gay?” he narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look gay.”

Before Gimli could recover his wits, another voice cut into the conversation.

“And you don’t look grounded,” Gimli turned to see Bard coming down the stairs. “But if you keep it up with the rude attitude, you will be.” Bain huffed and slumped into the couch, but no more questions came forth. Bard turned to Legolas and Gimli, wrapped the former in a bear hug. Gimli smiled to see Legolas return it enthusiastically, and recalled the many conversations they’d had about how warm his ‘bonus dad’ was. Bard turned to Gimli next, offering a hand to shake and an assessing glance, which Gimli met head on. His Da had raised him to be polite, and those lessons wouldn’t fail him now. 

Bard grinned at the firm handshake. “You must be Gimli. We’ve heard a lot about you, just not from this one.” He winked at Legolas, who tossed his hair and shrugged. 

Gimli paused, puzzled. He’d already met Bard a few weeks ago, at the first meeting regarding the rallies in the park- ah. Right. Those meetings had been kept secret from the rest of the family, as Bard attempted to protect Legolas from as much of Thranduil’s ire as he could. Bard eyed him intently, asking Gimli to play along.

Gimli smiled. “Aye, that I am. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Bowman.”

Bard laughed. “Please, call me Bard. I’m not one for formality,” he glanced to the couch. “However, I am one for manners. Bain, did you introduce yourself?”

Bain heaved himself off the couch with a sigh, slouching over. He stuck an unenthusiastic hand in Gimli’s direction, and Gimli fought down his amused smirk. “Hi, ‘m Bain. Nice to meet you.”

Gimli shook the boy’s hand briefly. “Aye, nice ta meet you, too, Bain.”

Bard cleared his throat, and Bain swallowed. “And I’m sorry for being rude before,” now he met Gimli’s eyes. “I really didn’t know I was being rude. Honest.”

He took pity on the kid, even as Legolas snorted ‘that’s a first’ under his breath. “No harm done, lad. Thanks for the apology.”

Before Bain could respond, a series of footsteps hurrying down the stairs interrupted. The thumping and banging was raucous in the old house, as were the shrieks and laughs that accompanied the percussion. A young girl, also from the fair if Gimli recalled properly, came racing into the living room followed closely by an older girl he’d never seen before, and Tauriel. The little one crashed into Legolas, who caught her fluidly under the arms and lifted her into a hug without breaking a sweat. She giggled and flung her arms around Legolas’ neck while he adjusted to hold her better. The middle girl came to hug him more sedately, but no less happily, taking up the side her sister wasn’t occupying.

“Hi Leg!” The young one chirped, flushed from what must have been a race.

“Hi Til,” Legolas smiled at her, then her sister. “Hi Sig.”

“Hey Legs.” This must be Tilda and Sigrid then, Gimli thought, the names sneaking out of the memories of stories Legolas had shared with him over many dinners. Sigrid leaned her head on his shoulder, while Tilda played with the long braid of his hair. 

Tauriel approached last, reaching out to flick Legolas’ ear as she leaned on Bard. “How’s it hanging, Pugsley?”

Gimli frowned in confusion at the weird name, and glanced at Legolas for answers, only to witness a truly impressive glare instead. He bit down on a laugh, not wanting to ruffle any feathers further than they already were. Bard glanced at them reprovingly, but was interrupted by Tilda before he could speak. 

“Excuse me,” she said, and all eyes in the little circle turned to her. She was staring at Gimli curiously. “Who are you?”

Gimli felt himself melt a bit inside; this kid was absurdly sweet. He stuck out a hand to her, and she leaned in Legolas grip to shake it. “My name is Gimli, lass. Pleased tae meet ya.”

“My name is Tilda,” she smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Are you a friend of Legolas’?” Sigrid asked, with a glance far too knowing and amused to not have already surmised the answer. 

Legolas cleared his throat softly. “As I was just telling Bard and Bain, Gimli is my boyfriend.” He glanced at Sigrid and Tilda, and while the former looked elated, the latter looked confused. She turned to her older brother. 

“Like, he takes you on dates?” She clarified. 

“Mhm.” Legolas nodded. 

“Romantic ones?”

He nodded again, and everyone shared amused glances, even Bain. Tilda seemed to think a moment before turning to Bard. 

“You and Papa go on romantic dates. Are you boyfriends?”

Bard chuckled a bit. “Not anymore, sweetheart. Now we’re husbands.”

Tilda frowned. “So? What’s the difference?”

A deep and airy voice floated into the conversation to answer. “A bit of paperwork, mostly.” 

From the study down the hall, past the stairs, came measured footsteps, and then Thranduil Lasgalen stepped into the room. He was as formidable as Gimli remembered, but the stand-offish edges of his countenance seemed to be softened in the presence of his family. He smiled happily at Tilda, and tugged affectionately at the braid in Tauriel’s hair as he joined their little circle. Legolas set Tilda down and moved to hug his father. For all the emotional baggage he had talked about with Gimli, and the cold demeanor he himself had witnessed, their embrace was warm and familiar. Thranduil seemed genuinely happy to see his son. Gimli hummed, and wondered at how much of their story he had yet to hear. 

Legolas drew back to Gimli’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling affectionately at him and then turning to his family. “Father, this is Gimli. My boyfriend, or partner, or whatever you want to call him. We’re dating.”

Gimli held his breath as he waited for Thranduil to object, to say something, to say anything, but the man was silent as his frosty gaze raked over his short stature. Gimli didn’t flinch, and held the man’s gaze as it came to his face. He knew Legolas’ father was cataloging his piercings, his beard, his dirty working boots, and so forth, but he refused to shrink. He was who he was, and he was the man who Legolas loved, rough edges and all. Thranduil would have to learn to deal with that. 

“So, Gimli,” Thranduil drawled, the effect of his haughty demeanor not at all diminished by Tilda leaning against his legs. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a professor at Columbia, in architecture, engineering, physics, and the like.” Gimli replied at ease. 

Thranduil hummed. “Allow me to rephrase, what is it that you’re doing with Aragorn Elessar? I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

It was a leading question, and while the cat was primarily out of the bag regarding Aragorn’s intentions with the city and their involvement, it wasn’t his place to have that conversation with Thranduil. How Gimli chose to spend his free time was none of the man’s business, and what Legolas chose to do was between father and son. Unless Legolas asked him specifically to say anything, Gimli was keeping mum. 

“We met at an academic conference in Oslo back when I was still a masters student, and we’ve stayed close. He asked for some support with his rally, and since I live here, I figured why not.”

Technically, it was only a lie by omission.

Thranduil hummed noncommittally, and glanced between him and Legolas. There was something in his gaze, something almost disappointed, when he looked at Legolas, but it was gone in a flash. “Well, I hope you both stay safe and achieve whatever it is you’re setting out to do today. The rally is meant to be hundreds strong I hear.”

Legolas shrugged carefully. “So they say. We’re going in a large group, Father, we’ll be plenty safe.”

“See!” Bain butted in, staring hard at Thranduil and his father. “Perfectly safe! Big group! There’s no reason I can’t go!”

Ah, right. Gimli hid a smile, recalling Legolas' mention of how upset Bain was that his fathers had forbidden him from attending the rally with his older brother. Evidently, it was still a major bone of contention. The ongoing argument was evident in the pinch of Bard’s brows and the tightening of Thranduil’s frown. Bain didn’t heed the signs.

“I’ll be with them the whole time! Look at Gimli, he’s built like a house, I’ll be fine! No one will bother a guy with that much ink, right?” He looked at Gimli for help, but before he could chuckle and assure the kid, Bard’s grasp on his patience seemed to fray.

“Bain, that’s enough,” he snapped, and all the children present, Tauriel and Legolas included, seemed to freeze. Gimli himself suddenly felt like a wee sprout again, quaking in front of his Ma’s ire. “Thran and I have both explained to you time and time again why you’re not allowed to go. Your attitude has been less than appropriate this week, and while I understand your frustration, that doesn’t mean I’ll condone discourtesy to guests, especially Gimli. Apologize, now.”

“But-” Bain’s face was that of any child realizing they have officially Stepped In It. 

“Now, Bain.” Thranduil intoned. The man’s voice could freeze the Sahara.

Bain scowled, but turned to Gimli. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No harm done, lad.” Gimli said mildly. Bain nodded and turned back to his fathers, but Bard was ready. 

“Upstairs, boyo. You’re grounded for the remainder of the weekend, or until you can get your manners back under control.”

Bain was growing red in the face, with both rage and embarrassment Gimli was pretty sure, and it was Legolas who stepped in to try to soothe. “It’s fine, Bain. It’s just going to be a lot of standing around in the cold and dark. I hear it’s even going to rain, and who’d want to be out in that?”

Bain glowered at him. “You’re going, though.”

Legolas shrugged again. “I promised I would. Personally, I’d rather be in here, where it’s warm and you have your Da’s cooking.”

Bain stared at the floor and wouldn’t say more. Legolas sighed. “I’m sorry you can’t come tonight, but maybe if there’s a smaller rally in the daylight, closer to spring break, we can work something out?” 

Thranduil stepped in. “Maybe so, Legolas. For now, you three had best get going if you don’t want to be horrendously late. Sigrid, Tilda, Bain, say goodbye.”

Bain snorted, and stomped from the room, throwing a sullen “bye or whatever” over his shoulder as he trundled up the stairs. Gimli bit down a grin as Sigrid rolled her eyes in a very put upon manner. If he had a dime for every time he’d seen that look on his own older sister’s face, he wouldn’t have bothered with grad school. Bard and Thranduil shared a long-suffering look, and moved to say goodbye. Gimli shook both their hands, and received hugs from Tilda and Sigrid. He watched on as Legolas said goodbye, warmed by the sight; Bard gripped him in another bear hug, while Tilda and Sigrid clung to his waist. As Tauriel received the same treatment, Thranduil ran the backs of his fingers down the sides of Legolas’ face in a very odd, but tender gesture that Gimli puzzled at. Legolas hugged his father in return, as did Tauriel, and they set off with well wishes for a good time. And if Legolas glanced up apologetically, in the direction of what Gimli assumed were the bedroom windows, they made no mention of it. 

\------

Tauriel received a text from Kili saying he was already there, and that it was already crammed full of people, so they headed right over to Central Park to meet him, Aragorn, and Arwen. As they disembarked from an overly crowded train, and emerged into an absolutely jam-packed street, Gimli began to realize the scope of what they were attempting. News vans, reporters, and emergency services on standby, as well as quite a few police-folk bracketed a veritable mosh pit of people. There were hundreds, if not a thousand people in the park and cordoned-off street beyond, surrounding the construction zone that had become the lower quadrant of the park. Many trees had already been uprooted, and more had been clear cut, but the majority of the forestry still remained upright. 

Gimli heard Legolas’ phone ping and turned to him.

The blond scanned the message and then tsked quietly to himself. He turned to Gimli and Tauriel. “Bard just got called in to help his old squad, so I’m thinking this is going to be a bit bigger than Aragorn realizes. Also,” he held his iPhone X Plus aloft for emphasis, the screen flashing before he locked it and put it away. “My phone is almost dead, so please no one lose me in this crowd.” Gimli reached for Legolas’ hand, and gripped it with assurance. Tauriel wound one arm through her brother’s, and her other through Kili’s. Kili grinned at her and winked, and Gimli smiled to see her blush. They began pushing their way through the crowd, Gimli reassessing the numbers as they walked. 

Without a doubt, there were thousands of people here. New Yorkers from all walks of life had poured out to defend their park, and huddled together now in the growing dark against the chill. The floodlights of the construction sight were harsh in the evening dusk, illuminating the amassing crowd. People were filling up the park, and pouring out onto Fifth and South. Gimli read their signs as he passed, smiling at the slogans, the plays on words, and even the harsh swearing scrawled on some of them. Some vendors had turned up in the chilly, wet evening and were trying to sell glow sticks and black-light face paint. Gimli had to hand it to them, it was certainly not a bad way to make a quick buck. People who had stopped at the carts were decked out in fluorescent rings and smears of colors in the dark. Despite the somber and frustrating reason for the gathering, the undercurrent of excitement and camaraderie was contagious, and Gimli found himself grinning as he held tight to Legolas’ hand. 

They found Aragorn and Arwen all the way back by the Mall entrance, underneath the arching branches of the trees lining the large promenade. Everyone hugged in greeting, exchanging smiles and adrenaline charged pleasantries, and then Aragorn turned to them.

“We’re way too far back,” he practically yelled over the growing din. The sky was beginning to drip, so Gimli hiked his collar up. “If Legolas is going to get a chance at some decent shots of the site and the folks running it, we have to get to the center of all this.”

They all nodded, gripping each other tighter in their huddle as the jostling got stronger. Gimli knew he was a wall, and even he was having a hard time staying on his feet. He shifted his grip from Legolas’ hand to wrap around his waist, and held the slighter man close to his chest. Legolas wrapped his own arm around Gimli’s shoulder, smiling down at him briefly. 

Aragorn continued, “Everyone pair up, and get to the front. Meet at the intersecting paths from Columbus Circle to the Heckscher playground if we all get separated from everyone but our buddy. I’ll take Arwen, Leg and Gimli, and then Tauriel and- uh..” Aragorn trailed off, realizing he had no idea who Kili was.

The young brunet smiled. “I’m Kili, pleased to meet you,” he waved. “I’m Gimli’s cousin.”

Gimli side-eyed his cousin and Tauriel, certain he was actually here because he was dating Tauriel, but as neither had made any mention of a relationship he kept his thoughts to himself. The rain was picking up, so he jostled Aragorn next to him. “If introductions are over, we should be off. I want to be wherever we’re getting to before this rain decides to get nasty.”

Aragorn nodded. “Right, let’s go.” He and Arwen gripped each other’s hands and took the lead, and Tauriel and Kili followed, hand in hand as well. Legolas and Gimli took up the rear, their grips on one another unshakable. In any other situation, Gimli would feel bad about being ‘those guys’ and taking up twice the breadth space as usual, but he’d rather come off as a momentary jackass than lose his boyfriend in the crowd.

Sure enough, they hadn’t even made it a few feet before he lost sight of both Tauriel’s red hair and Aragorn’s tall figure. He felt Leg tug him close, and they continued their slow and steady push through the crowd. The din was growing even louder, chanting and yelling starting up. From the direction of the street came flashes of light, the clamoring roar of the press. Blue and red strobed over the masses, and Gimli realized the emergency standby services had arrived. 

Legolas weaved through the chaos with expert dexterity, holding to Gimli with no small amount of strength. He heard gasps and a couple of shouts as people recognized the tall blond man power walking for the front of the crowd. Legolas paid them no mind, and leaned down to speak directly into Gimli’s ear.

“Babe, can I use your phone to record for a bit?” Gimli shivered as lips brushed the shell of his ear, the vibrations of Legolas’ voice thrumming down his spine. “I wanna keep my battery alive as long as I can in case there’s an emergency.”

Gimli nodded up at Legolas, who smiled, and pecked him on the nose in thanks as he handed his phone over. As they neared the epicenter of the action, haloed by the harsh floodlights and sounds of distant machinery, Legolas was recording everything. The crowds, individuals in paint and lights holding signs aloft, the news crews now weaving into the throng as best they could, the distant emergency services, the rainy dreary night all around them. Nothing was done randomly, every pan of the lens, zoom in or out, swipe, jostle, cut. Legolas used every part of their surroundings to lay the groundwork for a story he’d polish up over the course of the next few days as he edited the footage to perfection. Gimli had seen his fair share of Legolas’ often viral videos, and was always impressed by how well the man knew his way around a camera. 

They caught up to the rest of their motley crew after ten minutes of pushing their way through the roughest patch of people Gimli had ever seen. And he lived in Queens. They emerged into stadium lighting, at the front of the crowd. There was more room to move here, as most people were keeping a healthy distance away from the police tape and neon orange traffic barriers. Aragorn was not one of these people. Gimli and Legolas glanced at each other, sighing in near unison over what was building up to be “Another Aragorn Incident” for both of them, and pressed forward to join him. 

“Let it never be said we let the lad go it alone.” Gimli said gruffly. Legolas smiled thinly, letting go of his shoulders for the first time that night. He immediately missed the warmth of the taller man’s embrace, like a flower misses the sun when it hides behind clouds.

The three stepped into the glare of the lights, in front of the barriers, tapes, and cones. The three of them, voices and faces of a movement that was now thousands strong and taking shape behind them, up against the cold steel of machinery and the unfeeling soul of the corporate entity before them. 

Gimli swallowed, his inherent fear of being exposed, of being on camera especially (and he knew he would be if Legolas had anything to say about it), welling up inside of him. He felt choked by it suddenly, and glanced at his companions from the corner of his vision. Aragorn’s focus was on the site in front of them, and the individuals now coming forth out of the rain and fog and glare to stand against them. Legolas looked comfortable as can be, chin held high, eyes bright with an almost fevered glee, holding his phone aloft as he recorded. Gimli hoped he had enough storage for all the footage. 

A burly man, bald and grisly with a gnarled scar over his eye, stepped forward. “Go home, the lot of you! This is an active construction site, and you are all trespassing!” He sneered. Gimli grit his teeth. 

Aragorn stepped forward a bit more. “Actually, this is public city property, and we have the right to assemble as we see fit, last I checked.” His voice carried high and steady on the wind, like the clang of a war bell, and whoops and shouts rose in accordance from behind them. “We have the right to protest what you’re doing here, what you’ve already begun to do to our land!”

“Your land!” the man barked a laugh, and it was a harsh and grating sound. “Ha! This land, right here, is ours. Ink’s well dry on the deed. And before you know it,” he jabbed a finger toward them, about a foot away from Aragorn’s chest. Legolas was still recording, and he quirked a brow. “That land you’re standing on will be too. And so will that bit over there, and there, and a-a-all the way over there. This entire park, and then some, will be ours to do with as we please.” 

Aragorn laughed. “As you please? As your boss pleases, maybe, and his boss, and that boss’ boss as well. You don’t own shit, Olgate, and you never will. You’re just the goat they tossed out here to face the slaughter, while they sit around and watch.”

The man, Olgate, grinned, baring crooked and chipped teeth, and Gimli felt true apprehension curl in his gut. He leaned in closely to Aragorn, and spoke so lowly only the three of them could make it out. Gimli wasn’t even sure the camera could pick it up. “You know, it’s funny you mention that, the slaughter. At the end of all this, at the end of this very night, maybe, we’ll see who’s the goat and who’s the butcher, hm?”

Aragorn blinked, at a loss for words, but Olgate was striding away from them before they could retaliate. Gimli slapped the man on the back, jostling him from his stupor. Aragorn shook his head, and the three turned to head back to their friends and the crowd. Gimli reached out for Legolas, who pressed his phone back into his hand. He stowed it in his back pocket, and grabbed for his partner’s hand, but had made it no further than a brush of the fingers when Legolas jerked away. He was staring into the crowd, frozen, focused on something- someone- in the masses. 

Legolas blinked. “Bain?”

Gimli turned to look at the crowd, then Legolas, but he was off like a shot after his little brother, his hand slipping through Gimli’s fingers like a whisper. He turned to Aragorn and Tauriel, who was now also frantically scanning the crowd, though Kili held her to him with an arm around her waist. Tauriel turned to him, and opened her mouth, but was cut off by a cacophony of sharp cracks, shattering the rainy night around them like a mirror.

Bullets. 

Gimli’s throat closed, and his blood ran cold. Time began to slow down as the screams started, and the monster of the crowd grew ferocious in its panic. Someone had just opened fire on the rally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned y'all. Shit's boutta get serious.


End file.
